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0 


OUTLINES 


OP 


GERMAN    LITERATURE 


BY 

JOSEPH   GOSTWICK 
ROBERT  HARRISON 


'» 


29EW  YOEK 

HOLT    A    WILLIAMS 

P.  W.   GHBISTERN 

BOSTON:     B.    R.     URBINO 

1873. 


)v^3  , 


i  (jLjJLuLtM^ 


MW    3.   !*»♦ 


THOMAS   CAELYLE 
^utline^    of   iTBetman    Sitccatute 


^tiptitfiills   lucribik 


A- 


)v^3  , 


MW    3.   »*»♦ 


TO 


THOMAS   CARLYLE 


THIBB 


4^ut\int^   of   4Biertiian    Itteratute 

Ans 

BT    PBRMUSIOir 

SttftdMs  Incnbtk 


PEEFACE 


These  Otttlines  are  designed  to  supply  a  want  wbicli 
the  wide-spreading  stndy  of  the  German  langpiage  and  its 
literature  has  created.  Though  this  stndy  has  rapidly  ad- 
Tanced  in  England  dnring  recent  years,  it  has  been  mostly 
confined  to  the  writings  of  modem  authors,  and  many 
readers  may  still  ask  for  a  book  giving  a  general  view  of 
the  literature  of  the  Oerman  People  from  the  earliest  to 
the  latest  times.  These  Outlines  extend  from  the  year  880 
A.©,  to  1870. 

More  than  thirty  years  have  passed  since  Mr.  Gabltle 
wrote : — ^  Germany  is  no  longer  to  any  person  that  vacant 
land  of  gray  vapour  and  chimeras  which  it  was  to  moat 
Englishmen,  not  many  years  ago.  One  may  hope  that,  as 
readers  of  German  have  increased  a  hundred-fold,  some 
partial  intelligence  of  Germany,  some  interest  in  things 
German,  may  have  increased  in  a  proporiionably- higher 
ratio.'  If  these  words  were  true  in  1838,  with  how  much 
greater  force  may  they  be  applied  to  the  present  time ! 

The  German  language  is  now  studied  in  all  our  best 
schools  and  colleges,  as  well  as  at  the  universities,  and  is 
one  pf  the  subjects  given  by  examiners  to  candidates  for 
the  Civil  Service.  'Where  a  knowledge  of  German  is 
rated  so  high,'  says  Prof.  Max  Mulleb,  'it  is  but  fair  that 
the  examiners  should  insist  upon  something  more  than  a 


Vi  FB£FAOE. 

conyersational  knowledge  of  the  language.  •  •  •  Candi* 
dates  may  fairly  be  required  to  know  sometliing  of  the 
History  of  German  Literature/ 

It  may  be  asked,  why  have  we  not  translated  one  of  the 
best  ^f  many  German  books  on  the  History  of  German 
Literature  ?  The  reply  is,  that,  in  some  instances,  they 
are  too  extensive ;  in  others  they  are  rather  critical  than 
narrative  or  descriptive,  and  are  designed  for  readers  who 
already  have  some  considerable  knowledge  of  the  subject. 
The  work  now  offered  to  EngUsh  readers  is  moderately  com- 
pendious, and  while  many  critical  remarks  may  be  found  in 
its  pages,  its  general  character  is  descriptive.  As  &r  as 
is  possible,  writers  of  various  schools  and  of  several  periods 
are  here  allowed  to  speak  for  themselves.  In  several  of 
the  quotations  given,  the  form  of  abridged  translation  is 
used,  in  order  to  gain  niore  breadth  of  outline.  With  the 
exception  of  two  or  three  stanzas  (&om  hymns  noticed  in 
Chapter  XI.),  no  translations,  either  in  prose  or  verse,  have 
been  borrowed.  The  translations  from  minor  poets,  which 
may  seem  numerous,  are  intended  to  give  a  fair  representa- 
tion of  German  poets  of  the  second  clasa— writers  whose 
genius  is  truly  poetic,  though  not  comprehensive,  and  who 
have  especially  excelled  in  their  lyrical  ballads. 

It  is  not  long  since  a  notion  prevailed,  that  a  review  of 
poetical  literature,  with  a  few  brief  notices  of  history  and 
biog^phy,  might  be  accepted  as  the  history  of  a  national 
literature.  But  theology  and  philosophy  are,  though  not 
immediately  yet  closely,  united  with  general  culture,  and 
we  have,  therefore,  made  no  attempt  to  evade  the  difficulty 
attending  the  .treatment  of  these  subjects. 

Our  work  would  indeed  have  been  lighter  if  we  could 
have  declined  the  task  of  giving  an  account  of  recent 
Genoan  literature — especially  ite  theology  and  philosophy. 


PJIBFACE.  *  vii 

Li  thege  seciionfl  we  hare  viewed  as  afleless  tlie  observance 
of  reticenoe  respecting  the  negations  of  Rationalism.  The 
fact  is,  that  they  are  already  well  known  in  England,  as 
they  were,  indeed,  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago.  In 
negative  criticism,  as  applied  to  both  theology  and  philo- 
sophy, (German  writers  have  been  indnstrioas — as  in  all 
other  departments— but  they  have  said  nothing  as  iftgative 
as  the  doctrine  to  be  found  in  Hume's  works,  written 
before  17dO,  What  is  now  called  rationalism  was  common 
in  Engktnd  before  that  date,  though  it  is  sometimes  spoken 
of  as  the  sole  result  of  German  philosophy.* 

In  Modem  German  Literature  all  the  parties  engaged  in 
polemic  theology,  and  in  the  present  controversy  of  free- 
dom against  external  authority,  are  jGsdrly  and  very  strongly 
represented.  As  &r  as  our  limits  would  allow,  we  have 
endeavoured  to  let  all — Catholics,  Mystics,  Lutherans, 
Pietists  and  nationalists — speak  for  themselves. 

The  assertion,  that  everything  that  has  been  called 
German  Philosophy  is  '  Atheistic,'  is  nothing  less  than  an 
untruth,  and  we  have  endeavoured  to  make  this  clear. 

*  *  It  18  come,  I  "know  not  how,  to  be  taken  for  granted  by  many  per- 
8onB,  that  Christianity  is  not  so  much  as  a  subject  of  inquiry,  but  that 
it  is  now  at  length  discovered  to  be  fictitious.  And  accordingly  they 
treat  it  as  if,  in  the  present  age,  this  were  an  agreed  point  among  all 
people  of  discernment;  and  nothing  remained,  but  to  set  it  up  as  a 
principal  subject  of  mirth  and  ridicule,  as  it  were,  by  way  of  reprisals, 
for  its  haying  so  long  interrupted  the  pleasures  of  the  world.'  This 
was  written  in  1736  by  Josxfh  Bxttles,  author  of  the  well-known  book 
on  '  The  Analogy  of  Beligfon.'  The  passage  is  quoted  here  t^  correct 
the  false  notion  that  everything  known  as  rationalism  has  .come  from 
Germany,  and  was  invented  there  by  'the  j^ilosophers.'  On  the 
contrary,  rationalism,  under  the  name  of  Deidra,  was  first  imported  from 
England  into  Germany  before  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
For  ample  proofs  of  this  assertion,  see  Lechlbb's  '  History  of  English 
Deism.*  The  only  new  feature  we  can  find  in  the  materialism  now 
fashionable  in  Germany  is  Hr.  Darwin's  theory  of  development. 


VUl  PKEFAGE. 

The  motive  is,  no  doabt,  yery  good,  bnt»  neyertbeless,  the 
effect  is  depressing,  when  young  students  are  told  that 
philosophers — ^however  sincere  and  howeyer  profound- 
must  always  end  in  Atheism  or  Pantheism,  if  they  think 
of  more  than  finite  and  perishable  things.  The  tendency 
of  this  kind  of  warning  may  go  further  than  tho  monitor's 
good  intention,  and  may  lead  to  frivolity,  as  easily  as  to  an 
abject  and  blind  submission  to  authoriiy.  It  is  bad  to 
teach  young  men  to  look  down  on  the  lowliest  of  their 
fellow-creatures,  and  it  must  be  worse  when  they  are 
taught  to  look  with  contempt  on  their  superiors.  We 
prefer  to  the  narrow  and  controversial  mind,  now  too 
prevalent  in  some  departments  of  science  and  literature, 
the  charity  of  Leibnitz,  who  could  find  some  truth  every- 
where. 

The  literature  of  the  time  1830-70  has  not  been  treated 
with  the  freedom  of  criticism  asserted  with  regard  to  pre- 
ceding periods.  The  reasons  for  reserve  are  obvious.  In 
our  study  of  the  literature  of  our  own  age,  we  have  no  aid 
from  criticism  confirmed  by  the  verdict  of  time.  Many  of 
the  writers  named  in  our  later  chapters  are  still  living, 
and  their  reputations  have  still  to  be  tested.  For  the 
account  here  given  of  recent  literature,  no  respect  is 
claimed  more  than  what  is  due  to  a  careful  statement  of 
&cts. 

« 
IiOKDOir  LnniABT,  12  St.  Jahbs's  Sqvabi: 

•        March  26, 1878. 


CONTENTS. 


•*c*- 


FIBST  PERIOD.    380-1160. 
(JHAPTER  L 


Tiam 


Introdnetory — ^High  and  Low  GermaD — Gothic — Old  High  German 
— Middle  High  German — New  High  German — Characteristics 
of  German  Literature — The  Seven  Periods  of  its  History     •      1 
ITlfllas— Kero— Otfried— Notker         .  .    *       ,  .9 


SECOND  PERIOD.    1160-1860. 

CHAPTER  n. 

The  Times  of  the  Holienstaufens  —  Chiyalty —  The  Cmsades  — 
National  Legends,  the  '  Nibelungenlied  '  and  'Gudrun' — 
East  Gh)thic  and  Longobard  Legends  .  .  •  .14 

CHAPTER  m. 

Bomances  %f  Chivalry  and  other  Narratiye  Poems : — '  Parzival,' 
'  Tristan/  *  Der  arme  Heinrich  ' — Carlovingian,  Antique,  and 
Monastic  Legends,  Popular  Stories — '  Reynard  the  Fox'        •    26 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Lyric  and  Didactic  Verse — The  Minnesingers — ^Prose        •  .46 


I 


TSIBD  PERIOD,    1350-1626. 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  later  Middle  Ages — Towns  —  Guilds  —  The  S^aster  Singers 
— ^Narrative  and  Lyrical  Verse — ^The  Drama — Prose  Fiction  .    66 

CHAPTER  VI. 

« 

6atixM— Comio  Storiei— Bxandt—Geildr— Murner  •  •    79 


Z  .  COJTTENTS. 

CHAPTER  Vn. 

PAGB 

Chronicles  of  Towns— Didactic  Froee— The  Mystics — Tanler — *  Der 
Franckforter*  •  •  .  •  •  •  .89 

FOUBTH  METHOD,     1626-1625.     * 
CHAPTER  VIII. 
Characteristics  of  the  Time — Ulrich  ron  Htitten — ^Luther  h    99* 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Theologians : — Berthold — ZwingU  —  Mathesius — Amdt— Agrieola 
—  Franck —  Bohme  —  Historians :  —  Tnrmair  —  Anshelm  — 
Tschudi  — Kessler  —  Bullinger — Lehmann  —  Theobald  — Art 
and  Science : — Diirer — Paracelsus       •  •  •  .  107 

CHAPTER  X. 

Lutheran  Hymns— Hans  Sachs — Valentin  Andrea — Ringwaldt— 
Waldis — Alberus — RoUenhagen — Spangeubei^g  —  Fischart— 
The  Drama — Manuel — Rebhuhn — 'The  English  Comedians  * — 
Heinrich  Julius — Faust — ^Weidmann — ^Wickram         •  .120 

•    FIFTH  PEBIOD.     1626-1726. 

CHAPTER  XL 

The  Times — Opitz  and  his  School— Lufheran  and  Pietistic  Hymns 
— Secular  Lyrical  Poetry — Didactic  and  Satirical  Verse — The 
Drama — Popular  Songs  and  Ballads   .  •  •  .136 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Prose  Fiction— History  — The  Thirty  Years'  "War— Travels—    . 
Letters — Didactic  Prose — Pietism — Leibnitz — "Wolf  .  162 

SI3CTH  PERIOD.    1726-70. 

CHAPTER  Xin. 

Characteristics  of  the  Time — Literary  Unions — ^The  Swiss-Leipzig 
Controversy — Gottsched — ^Bodmer — Breitinger  — The  Fable- 
Writers — Haller — Hagedorn — The  Saxon  School — Gleim  and 
his  Friends— ^Hymn-Writers-^Prose-Fiction  .  ,167 

CHAPTER  XIV.  I 

Frederick  11.  of  Prussia — Historians  —  Popular  Philosophers— 
Bationaljirfa— Vjritegf  oa  iSstlietiet— Winekrimann    .  .181 


i 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTEE  XV. 
Klopstock — Ijeaang — ^Wieknd       •  •  •  •  •  196 

SEVENTH  PERIOD.    1770-1880. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Time  of  Ghxthe's  Youth — Beligion— -Politics  and  litentare 

— *  Sturm  undDzang' — ^Hamaon — JacoW — ^Heider    .  .221 

CHAPTEE  XVII. 

« 

*  Ootz  Ton  BerUcbiDgen  * — *  Werther's  Leiden  * — The  Men  of  *  Stonn 

ondDrang*— The  Hainbund-^ProaeWritezv— Kant  .  .  237 

•chapter  xvni. 

*  Xlgmont ' — *  Iphigenia ' — '  Taseo ' — *  Heimann  and  Dorothea'       •  262 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Ooethe's  Lyrical  and  Occasional  Poems — Songs — ^Ballads — Refer- 
ences to  Autobiography  —  Odes — Elegies — Epigrams  and 
other  Didactic  Poems  ..«•••  270 

CHAPTER  XX. 
'Fanst*       •  •  .  .  .  «  •  .283 

CHAPTER  XXL 
Schiller       •  ••.•••  800 

CHAPTER  XXIL 

Schiller's  Writings :— •  The  Robbers  *  — '  Kesco  *  — « Intrigue  and 
Love' — *Don  Carlos' — ^Historical  Studies — .Slsthetics — Bal- 
lads— ^Lyrical  Poems — ^Poems  on  the  History  of  Cultore — 
Later  Dramas :— '  Wallenstein '— '  Maria  Stuart '— *  T£e  Maid 
of  Orleans  *— '  The  Bride  of  Messina '— *  Wilhelm  Tell '  .  816 

•     CHAPTER  XXIIL 

Schiller^s  Cotemporaries : — Jean  Paul — Minor  Poets— Prose  Fiction 

—Low  Literature — the  Drama  .  •  ,  ,  838 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Romantic  School  ••••••  864 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
The  Romantic  School  (continued)    .  •  •  •  •  888 

^  CHAPTER  XXVL 

The  Wa^of  liberation  (181 2-1 6>— Patriotic  Statesmen— >Philo- 
sophen —Publicists — Poets — The  Suabian  Sobool  of  Poetij  •  421 


xii  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XXVn. 

PAQl 

Goethe's  latest  "Works — Biickert — Platen — Heine    •  «  •.  440 

CHAPTER  XXVni. 

(1800-30.) 

July  1830— Progress— Retrospect  of  1800-80— Fichte—Schelling 
— ^Hegel — The  Hegelian  Method  —  Logic  —  Natare  —  Mind — 
Philosophy  of  History — Freedom  —  Religion  —  Morals  and 
Politics — .Esthetics      ......  459 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Philosophical    Controversies — Herbart — Schopenhaner — Baader — 

The  Hegelian  School — Materialism      .   •        •  •  •  485 

• 

CHAPTER  XXX 

(1830-70.) 
Young  Germany — Political  Poetry — Austrian  Poetry        •  ,  508 

CHAPTER  XX;XI. 
Poems: — Epic — Drama|ic  —  Lyrical  —  Hymns — The  Poetry  of 
Domestic  Life  .  •  •  .  •  •  •  617 

*  CHAPTER  XXXn. 

Recent  Prose-Fiction: — Village  Stories — Realistic- Romance — 
Tales  of  Travel  and  Adventure — ^Inane  Fiction — Romances 
with  Social  Tendencies — ^Historical  Romances — Novels  and 
Short  Stories— Domestic  Stories  .  .  ,  .  529 

CHAPTER  XXXIIL 

(1770-1870.) 

Special  Literatures : — ^The  Physical  Sciences — Geography — ^Voyages    . 
and  Travels — Biography — History — National  Economy  and 
Social  ScienceT— Education— Philology,  Literary  History  and 
iBsthelics        ....••.  544 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Ecclesiastical  History — ^Theology  ^nd  Religion        •  •  .  563 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 
The  Three  chief  Divisions  of  German  Literature — The  Seven 
Periods  and  the  Present  Time — Modem  Realism — Materialism 
— Controversy — Poetiy  and  Reality — Conciliation — Schiller 
and  Prince  Albert — The  Literary  Union  of  Germany,  Eng- 
land, and  America      .         .   .'  ...  .  .  676 


OUTLINES 

OF 

GEEMAN   LITEEATUEE. 


-•o^ 


CHAPTER  I. 

IHTBODTJCrORT — HIGH  AND  XOW  GBBMA17 — GOTHIC — OLT>  HIGH  OEB- 
MAJf — VTDDLB  HIGH  OISIIMA.N — NEW  HIGH  OEBMAJT — CHABACTES- 
ISTICS  OF  GERMAN  LTTBRATUBB — THE  SEVEN  PEB10D8  OP  ITS 
HISTOBT — THE  FIBST  FEBIOD  :  XTIflLAS — KERO — OTFBIED — NOTKEE. 

The  people  wlio  now  occupy  the  greater  part  of  Central  Europe 
and,  in  race  and  language,  form  one  nation,  have  since  the  twelfth 
century  called  themselves '  die  Deutschen.'  The  name  *  German ' — 
itself  not  German,  but,  like  *  Teuton,'  borrowed  from  Latin — is 
sometimes  employed  to  include  not  only  *  die  Deutschen '  ol  Central 
Europe,  but  also,  and  with  regard  to  their  common  origin,  the 
people  of  Holland,  tlie  English,  and  the  Scandinavians.  As  com- 
monly used  in  England,  however,  the  word  'German'  includes 
only  the  people  whose  literature  belongs  to  the  High  German 
language. 

Down  to  the  time  of  the  Reformation  Low  German  was  the 
written  language  of  the  districts  bounded  on  the  north  by  the 
Baltic  and  the  North  Sea,  and  on  the  south  by  a  line  drawn  from 
Aachen  (Aix-la-Chapelle)  through  Bonn,  Cassel  and  Dessau  to 
Thorn  on  the  Vistula,  One  of  the  more  obvious  distinctions  of 
High  and  Low  German  is  found  in  the  consonants,  which,  in  the 
latter,  mostly  resemble  the  Englfsh.  Thus  we  have  in  Low 
German,  t,  k,  and  p  nsed  respectively  instead  of  the  High  German 
9f  di,  and  /.    Law  German,  with  which  English,  the  language 

B 


2  OUTLINES  or  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

spoken  in  Holland,  and  the  Scandinavian  languages  are  all  closely 
connected,  declined  rapidly  in  its  literature  soon  after  the  Kefor- 
mation. 

High  Germait,  in  the  course  of  time,  from  the  sixth  century  to 
the  present,  has  passed  through  changes  so  extensive  as  to  divide 
it  into  three  forms — Old,  Middle,  and  New  High  German — ^which 
may  he  practically  stjled  three  distinct  languages.  The  first  pre- 
Tail^d  in  literature  from  the  sixth  century  to  the  eleventh ;  the 
second  from  the  Crusades  to  the  Reformation  ;  and  the  third  was 
established  by  Luther's  translation  of  the  Bible  (1622-1634). 
The  first  of  these  languages  is  now  as  difficult  for  a  modern 
German  as  King  Alfred's  English  is  for  an  Englishman  of  the 
present  time,  and,  as  Prof.  Max  Miiller  observes,  the  Middle  High 
German  of  Walther,  a  lyrical  poet  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
'is  more  remote  from  the  language  of  Goethe  than  Chaucer  iB 
from  Tennyson.' 

"With  respect  to  the  times  during  which  they  were  used  in 
literature,  the  Old  High  German  might  be  called  Mediaeval,  and 
the  Middle  High  German  might  be  distinguished  ais  Later 
Mediaeval. 

In  the  transitions  made  from  Gothic  to  Old  High  German,  and 
from  this  language  to  Middle  High  German,  the  geneml  tendency 
was  to  reduce  both  the  number  and  the  strength  of  inflections ; 
in  other  words,  to  make  the  language  less  natural  and  sensuous. 
The  Gothic,  like  Greek,  had  a  dual  number,  and  some  distinct 
forms  of  the  passive  verb ;  though,  like  all  German  languages,  it 
had  only  two  tenses.  In  Gothic  nouns  the  Jiominative,  the  ac- 
cusative, and  the  vocative  are  distinguished.  In  Old  High  German 
the  vocative  case,  the  dual  number,  and  the  passive  form  of  the 
verb  disappear,  and  the  accusative  is  made  like  the  nominative ; 
but  the  number  of  the  vowels  is  increased,  many  abstract  nouns 
are  introduced  by  translators  from  Latin,  and  changes  of  consonants 
take  place ;  such  as  from  t,  k,  and  p  to  their  respective  substitutes 
Sf  chf  and  f.  This  change  is,  as  we  have  noticed,  characteristic  of 
all  the  three  High  German  languages,  as  distinct  from  Gothic, 
Plattdeutach,  English,  and  the  languages  of  Holland  and  Scandi- 
navia. A  great  improvement  in  verse  was  made  duiing  the 
Monastic,  or  Old  High  German  period,  by  the  substitution  of 
rhjme  for  alliteration.  In  Middle  High  German  the  diminution 
of  Gothic  inflections  was  carried  farther^  and  thus  the  language 


I 


/ 


L]  MIDDLE  HIGH  GERMAN. 


was  rendered  less  cumbersome  in  grammar,  and  more  fitted  for 

f  essj  use  in  conyeisation.     Several  very  remarkable  improvements 

were  now  made  in  versification.    Its  melody  depended,  not  on  a 

I  dull  counting  of  syllables,  but  on  both  accent  and  quantity,  and 

strict  attention  was  paid  to  the  purity  of  the  rhymes.    These 

^■^  characteristics  belong  chiefly  to  the  poetical  literature  of  the 

thirteenth  century ;  but  that  literature  was  reduced  to  a  pitiable 
caricature  of  itself  in  the  course  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries.  In  those  dark,  yet  not  uninteresting  times,  literature 
became  popular  and  prosaic,  and  verse  was  manufactured.  -Many 
illiterate  men,  who  could  not  always  count  syllables  correctly,  and 
cared  nothing  for  purity  of  rhyme,  set  up  joint-Stock  companies  fpr 
making '  poetry,'  and  produced  bales  of  that  sort  *  which  neither  gods 
nor  men  can  tolerate.'  We  may  add,  that  the  Middle  High  Q  erman 
differs  from  the  Modem  more  in  its*  forms  than  in  its  sounds ;  so 
that  the  reader  who  is  puzzled  by  the  appearance  of  a  few  lines 
from  a  song  written  in  the  thirteenth  century,  wiU  sometimes 
understand  tbem  as  soon  as  they  are  read  aloud. 

The  chief  characteristic  which  has  been  preserved,  through  all 
its  changes,  by  the  German  language,  is  its  independence.  The 
root-words  are  few,  in  comparison  with  their  wealth  of  deriva- 
tives and  compounds.  A  German-English  dictionary,  to  be  useful, 
must  be  rather  extensive;  but  all  the  roots  commonly  used  in 
Modem  High  German  might  be  very  readably  printed  in  a  small 
pocket  volume.  Instead  of  borrowing  words  from  Greek,  Latin, 
and  French,  in  order  to  express  hew  combinations  of  thought, 
German  developes  its  own  resources  by  manifold  compositions  of 
its  own  roots  and  particles.  It  is,  consequently,  a  self-explanatory 
language,  ani  the  German  student  who  knows  little  or  nothing  of 
Latin  and  Greek  can  trace  the  etymology  of  the  longest  compound 
words  which  he  employs.  In  English,  in  order  to  express  one 
thought  in  its  various  modifications,  we  use  German,  Greek,  and 

y^,.  Latin.    In  German,  where  the'  thoughts  are  closely  related,  the 

corresponding  words  have  &  family  likeness.  Consequently,  while 
the  German  language  is  far  superior  to  our  own  in  originality,  it 
does  not  admit  such  strong  distinctions  of  diction  as  may  be  made 
between  ^English-Latin  writers,  like  Gibbon  and  Johnson,  and 
authors  like  Swift  and  Bnnyan,  who  wrote  a  purer  English. 

I  The  several  States  of  Germany  stand  by  no  means  on  a  level, 

^  with  regard  to  their  contributions  to  literature.  The  Northern  States 

i  b2 


4  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

Laye  been  far  more  productive  than  those  of  the  south,  and,  as  a 
fact,  it  may  be  stated  without  any  partiality^  that,  in  almost  all 
departments  of  learning,  the  Protestant  States  have  excelled  their 
Catholic  neighbours.  Of  the  Modem  German  Literature  now 
spreading  its  influence  throughout  the  civilised  world,  a  remark- 
ably large  portion  belongs  to  Prussia  and  Saxony.  Of  one  hundred 
and  seventy  authors  who  wrote  during  the  period  1740-1840,  sixty 
belonged  to  Prussia,  about  thirty  to  Saxony  and  Wurtemberg,  ton 
or  a  dozen  to  Bavaria  and  Baden,  and  very  few  to  Austria.  Of 
the  nineteen  universities  of  Germany,  thirteen  belong  to  Prussia 
and  the  North  German  Confederation.  These  numerous  free 
institutions — open  alike  to  the  rich  and  the  poor — are  almost  the 
only  good  results  of  the  division  of  Germany  into  so  many  States. 
They  were  established  by  the  nation  itself,  have  been  closely 
united  with  its  literary  and  political  history,  and  now  form  bulwarks 
for  the  defence  of  the  empire.  Pedants  have  too  often  reigned  in 
these  great  schools  for  the  people ;  but  let  it  always  be  remem- 
bered that  Luther  and  Melancthon  were  German  professors.  In 
1867-68,  about  fifteen  thousand  students  were  attending  lectures 
at  the  German  universities,  and  the  number  of  professors — or- 
dinaiy  and  others — was  about  one  thousand.  It  will  not  seem 
remarkable,  therefore,  that  of  the  one  hundred  and  seventy  authors 
living  between  the  years  1740  and  1840,  about  fifty  were  professors. 
To  pursue  the  analysis  a  little  further,  it  will  be  seen  that  twenty- 
two  of  these  writers — including  Goethe,  Miiller  the  historian, 
Karl  vom  Stein,  the  brothers  Humboldt,  and  Niebuhr — ^wero 
statesmen,  while  three  were  sovereigns.  The  greatest  number  of 
authors,  including  the  best,  arose,  however,  not  indeed  from  the 
lowest,  but  from  the  middle  classes,  and  were  men  who  had  been 
trained  in  the  universities.    . 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  argue  now,  that  a  devotion  to  learning 
is  not  inevitably  followed  by  a  neglect  of  the  duties  of  social  and 
political  life.  Though  Germany  has  had  her  own  peculiar  school 
of  pedants — men  who,  as  Prof.  Max  Miiller  has  said,  '  have  been 
admirers  of  that  Dulcinea,  knowledge  for  its  own  sake ' — the 
Germans  have  not  become  a  nation  of  bookworms.  Von  Roon,  the 
organiser  of  Prussian  victories,  began  his  career  by  publishing  a 
handbook  of  geography  for  schools.  Von  Moltke  was  employed  as 
a  teacher  before  he  planned  the  campaign  of  1866.  Schoolmasters 
prepared  the  way  for  the  success  of  1870.    There  may  still  be 


I* 

I.]       CHARACTEEISTICS  OF  GEKMAN  LITERATUBE.        5 

found|  especially  amoDg  the  Saxons  of  the  north  and  the  notth- 
east,  men  of  powerful  build,  light  hair,  and  blue-gray  eyes,  re- 
calling the  Teutons  who  refused  to  yield  to  Rome.  From  those 
people  of  Holstein,  Mecklenburg,  *Pomerania,  Brandenburg,  and 
East  Prussia,  have  descended  such  men  aa  Kflpt,  Ilerschel,  and 
Gauss  in  literature  and  science,  and,  in  politics  and  warfare, 
Bliicher,  Moltke,  and  Bismarck.  The  central  Franks — ^mostly 
Catholics  in  the  hilly  districts  around  Wiirtzburg  and  Bamberg, 
but  Protestants  in  the  plains — ^have  been,  from  the  old  times  of  the 
Ilohenstaufen  kings  down  to  our  owii,  well  represented  in  poetry 
and  the  fine  arts.  The  names  of  Wolfram,  Frauenlob,  Goethe,  and 
Riickert  in  literature,  of  AJbrecht  DUrer  and  Lucas  Cranach  in 
art,  belong  to  the  Franks.  Thuringia,  the  home  of  poetry  and 
mubic  in  the  times  of  the  Crusades,  has  hardly  produced,  since 
then,  a  poet  of  the  first  class ;  but  the  great  musicians.  Bach  and 
Handel,  were  natives  uf  this  district  Snxony  and  Silesia  are 
illustrated  by  the  names  of  Leibnitz  and  Fichte  in  philosophy; 
Flemming,  Gerhardt,  and  Lessing  in  literature ;  Schumann,  Schnorr, 
and  Lessing  in  art. 

The  Suabians  'and  the  German  peoples  east  and  west  of 
Switzerland  may  boast  of  such  names  as  those  of  the  Hohenstaufen 
kings ;  of  Kepler,  Hegel,  and*Schelling,  in  science  and  philosophy ; 
of  Melancthon  and  Zwingli  in  theology ;  of  Gottfried,  Hartmann, 
Haller,  Schiller,  and  Uhland  in  poetry  j  and  of  Erwin  yon  Steinbach 
and  Holbein  in  art.  The  Bavarians  and  their  neighbours — the 
Austrians  and  the  Tyrolese — ^who  have  mostly  remained  Catholics, 
have  not  in  literature  and  philosophy  kept  pace  with  the  people 
of  the  Central  and  Northern  States.  As  some  compensation,  the 
Southern  Germans  have  had  in  music  men  like  Gluck,-  Mozart, 
Haydn,  and  Schubert;  in  poetry,  Zedlitz,  Auersperg,  Grillparzer, 
Stifter,  and  Blumauer;  and  in  art,  Schwanthaler,  Stiglmaier, 
Schwind,  and  Steinle. 

^  It  would  be  idle  to  attempt  to  characterise,  in  a  few  words,  the 

men  of  oyen  one  of  the  States  in  a  nation  with  a  population  of 
forty-seven  millions;  but  a  few  traits  commonly  regarded  as 
charactei*istic  of  the  German  people  may  be  mentioned  here.  It 
is  generally  admitted  that  the  Germans  are  less  sensuous  and 
passionate,  and  also  less  vivacious,  than  the  peoples  of  Latin 
origin,  to  whom  tiiey  are  also  infeiior  in  ease  of  address  and 

^-^  fluency  of  expression.    On  the  other  hand,  many  Germans  of  the 


6  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

higher  educated  classes  have  been  remarkable  for  their  deep 
thoughtfulness,  their  perseverance  in  study,  and  their  power  of 
retiring  from  the  world  of  the  senses  and  i-esting  in  the  world  of 
their  own  thoughts.  So  Kant,  who  might  have  truly  said, '  My 
mind  for  me  a  kingdom  is,'  lived  to  a  good,  old  age  at  Konigsberg, 
from  which  he  never  travelled  many  miles.  And  both  Fichte  and 
Hegel,  though  they  wrote  much  on  man's  duties  in  society,  taught 
that  his  highest  life  and  enjoyment — as  Aristotle  had  already 
said — must  consist  in  self-knowledge  and  meditation.  Such  men 
as  Kant,  Fichte,  and  Hegel  do  not  represent  a  nation ;  but  there 
must  exist  a  strong  thoughtful  tendency  in  the  people  who  have 
produced  so  many  retired  students  great  in  philology,  theology, 
and  philosophy. 

Among  more  ordinary  traits  of  the  Germans  may  be  noticed 
their  free  subordination,  circumspection,  ^caution,  perseverance, 
and  patience.  The  last  two  gifts  they  exhibit  in  their  acquisition 
of  foreign  languages.  The  German  in  England  listens  and  studies 
long,  patiently  submits  to  all  the  anomalies  of  our  orthography, 
and  then  surprises  us  by  delivering  a  lecture  or  writing  a  book  in 
good  English.  The  same  qualities  make  him  ready  to  obey, 
capable  of  ruling,  and  fully  sensible  of  the  truth  that  the  iirst  of 
these  duties  must  precede  the  second.  Industry,  patience,  and  a 
love  of  order  make  the  Germans,  as  colonists,  inferior  to  none — 
not  even  to  the  English  and  the  Scotch. 

To  notice  briefly  the  most  prominent  external  defects  of  German 
literature,  it  must  be  at  once  admitted  that  a  neglect  of  clearness 
and  beauty  of  style  has  too  long  been  tolerated.  Some  apology 
may  be  made  for  the  abstruseness  of  philosophical  books.  Deep 
thinking  can  hardly  be  made  popular.  A  dry  and  uninviting 
style  is  not  a  proof  of  depth  of  thought;  but  there  is  truth  in 
Hegel's  remark,  that  'some  writers  and  preachers,  very  popular 
on  account  of  their  clearness,  only  tell  the  people  what  they 
already  know.'  The  *  obscurity*  found  in  Kant,  Fichte,  and 
Hegel  may  be  partly  ascribed  to  the  problems  they  endeavour  to 
solve ;.  but  too  many  authors  liave  written  in  an  involved  style  on 
topics  less  difficult.  The  fault  must  be  ascribed  to  themselves,  and 
not  to  their  language;  for  while  it  allows,  it  by  no  means 
requires  a  complicated  structure  of  periods.  If  an  author  is 
determined  to  write  as  few  principal  sentences,  and  to  append  to 
them  as  many  phrases  as  posdble  before  he  makes  a  full  stop,  he 


L]  THE  SEVEN  PERIODS  OP  ITS  HISTORY.  7 

• 

can  do  it  in  German  without  writing  nonsense.  His  inflections  of 
nouns  and  adnouns  afford  an  advantage  of  which  he  too  often 
makes  an  abuse. 

Another  fault  of  some  German  authors  is  the  result  of  their 
virtues — ^industry  and  perseverance — exaggerated  and  made  tire- 
some. The  learned  professor,  in  treating  a  topic,  will  refer  to 
everything  connected  with  it  from  the  creation  of  the  world  down 
to  the  present  time,  leaving  nothing  unsaid  that  can  be  said 
about  it. .  The  Frenchman,  too  often,  rejects  all  that  cannot  be 
rapidly  understood  and  readily  expressed,  but  gives  the  remainder 
in  a  fluent  or  brilliant  style.  The  Englishman  asks  for  facts'  of 
which  he  can  immediately  make  some  use,  and  cares  little  for  the 
style  in  which  they  are  conveyed.  '  Good  care  has  been  taken 
that  the  trees  shall  not  grow  up  into  the  sky/  says  an  invidious 
old  proverb^  and  the  divided  characteristics  of  Germans,  French- 
men, and  Englishmen  seem  to  support  the  saying.  A  union  ot 
German  depth  and  French  clearness  with  the  Englishman's 
practical  purport  would  have  a  high  value  in  life  as  well  as  in 
literature. 

The  history  of  German  literature  has  been  divided  into  seven 
periods,  to  which  we  venture  to  add  an  eighth,  to  include  the 
literature  of  our  own  time. 

I.  The  First  Period  extends  from  the  time  3C0-380,  when  a 
great  part  of  the  Bible  was  translated  into  Gothic,  down  to 
the  eleventh  century.  After  the  migrations  of  the  German 
peoples,  their  language  was  reduced  by  monks  to  the  written  form 
known  as 

Old  High  German.  In  this  language  we  have  little  more  than 
a  few  heathen  ballads  and  some  translations  of  creeds,  prayers, 
Latin  hymns,  and  passages  from  the  Bible.  The  literary  character 
of  the  time,  extending  from  the  sixth  to  the  eleventh  century, 
was  monastic. 

II.  In  the  Second  Period  (1150-1350)  a  transition  of  language 
was  made  from  Old  to  Middle  Hiqe  German,  and  at  the  same 
time  literature  found  new  patrons  among  the  nobility  and  at  the 
courts  of  princes ;  especially  in  Austria  and  Thuringia. 

III.  In  the  Third  Period  (1350-1525)  literature— cast  aside  as 
a  worn-out  fashion  at  courts  and  in  the  halls  of  the  nobles — 
found  patrons  among  the  townspeople.'  Verse  lost  its  union 
with  poetry,  and  assumed  a  didactic  and  satirical  character,  but 


8  OUTLINES  OV  GERMAN  LITERATUHE.  [Ch. 

improvements  wero  made  in  prose^  especially  in  the  writings  of 
pious  men  known  as  Mystics. 

IV.  In  1522-1534  Ltjtheb  translated  the  Bible  into  German, 
and  the  general  reception  of  that  version  established  the  language 
called  New  High  German.  This  is  the  most  important  fact  in 
the  literary  Jiistory  of  the  Fourth  Period,  included  in  the  time 
1525-1625. 

V.  The  Fifth  Period  (1G25-1725)  includes  the  deplorable  time 
of  the  Thirty  Years*  War.  It  might,  perhaps,  have  been  credit- 
able to  the  German  people  if  no  light  or  imaginative  literature 
had  then  existed.  It  was  not  a  time  for  writing  poetry,  and, 
with  the  exception  of  some  hymns,  little  true  poetry  was  written, 
but  great  improvements  were  made  in  versification,  especially  by 
Opitz  and  his  followers. 

VI.  The  Sixth  Period  (1725-1770)  includes  a  time  chiefly 
noticeable  for  its  literary  controversies,  and  for  the  appearance 
of  Lessfng — the  herald  of  a  free,  national  literature.  ' 

VII.  It  is  enough  to  say  here  of  the  Seventh  Period  (1770-1830) 
that  it  was  the  time  of  a  general' revival  and  expansion  in  litera- 
ture, art,  and  philosophy  j  the  time  in  which  Goethe  displayed 
the  wealth  of  his  genius,  and  when  Schiller,  by  his  noble,  ideal 
characteristics,  as  well  as  by  his  poetry,  gained  such  a  permanent 
grasp  on  the  sympathies  of  his  nation  as  the  highest  genius  alone 
coidd  hardly  deserve. 

VIII.  The  proliBc  German  literature  that  has  appeared  since 
1830  does  not  belong  to  history.  Many  of  its  wiiters  are  still 
living,  and  their  reputations  have  still  to  be  tested  by  time.  For 
any  account  we  may  be  able  to  give  of  recent  German  literature,, 
we  claim  no  respect,  more  than  what  is  due  to  a  careful  statement 
of  facts. 

We  profess  to  give  merely  the  Outlines  of  German  Literature. 
Omissions  of  many  names  must  not  be  misunderstood  as  implying 
any  want  of  respect  for  the  unmentioned  writers.  Every  plan  of 
treating  briefly  the  history  of  an  extensive  literature  must  have 
some,  defects  when  it  is  reduced  to  practice.  If,  in  accordance 
with  the  views  of  some  literary  historians,  we  confined  our 
attention  to  works  of  imagination,  to  poetry,  epic,  lyrical,  and 
dramatic,  and  to  prose-fiction— as  comprising  the  literature  most 
clearly  expressing  the  general  characteristics  of  a  people,  we 
fihoidd  leave  unnoticed  history,  criticism,  philology,  add  literary 


I.]  ULFTLAS.  9 

history,  as  well  as  theology  and  philosophy— departments  of  study 
in  which  German  thought  and  learning  have  won  the  highest 
honours.  On  the  other  side,  it  may  he  truly  said,  that  the 
distinct  literatures  of  theology  and  philosophy  must  he  studied, 
each  in  its  true  order  and  union,  and  cannot  he  fairly  represented 
in  fragments,  scattered  here  and  there  among  notices  of  popuLar 
literature.  The  essence  of  philosophy  consists  in  unitive  thought. 
It  must  he  systematic,  or  it  is  nothing.  The  enquiries  of  such 
men  as  Hume,  Kant,  Jacohi,  Fichte,  Schelling,  Hegel,  and  Her- 
bart  are  all  connected  as  links  in  a  chain.  It  might  seem  easy  to 
give,  in  isolation,  a  sketch  of  the  practical  philosophy  of  such  a 
writer  as  Schopenhauer ;  hut  even  that  would  be  better  understood 
by  a  reference  to  other  writers — to  Kant  and  Ilartmann,  for 
example.  These  views  might  lead  us  to  reject  philosophy  as  a 
part  of  German  national  literature.  But  both  theology  and 
philosophy  are,  though  indirectly, .  very  closely  united  with 
national  culture.  The  thoughts  developed  by  the  best  writers  in 
these  departments  may  seem,  for  a  time,,  to  be  confined  to  univer- 
sities and  to  the  studies  of  learned  men ;  but  they  gradually  find 
their  way  from  one  circle  of  society  to  another,  until  they  exert 
an  important  influence  on  the  education  of  the  people.  These 
considerations  have  led  us  to  select  the  plan  of  giving,  first,  and 
in  their  historical  connection,  some  notices  of  the  general  litera- 
ture of  the  German  language^  to  which  may  be  appended  some 
outlines  of  the  special  literatmes  of  philology^  theology,  and 
philosophy. 


The  fragments  that  remain  of  the  literature  of 'the  Gothic  and 
Old  High  German  Innguages  all  serve  to  tell  one  story,  of  a 
gradual  spread  of  Christianity  and  of  the  establishment  of  the 
authority  of  the  Church  in  Central .  Europe,  from  the  fourth 
century  after  Christ  to  the  eleventh. 

The  Goths  were  the  first  Teutonic  people  who  received  Christian 
teaching.  Their  bishop,  Ulfilas  (318-38S)  translated  almost  the 
whole  of  the  Bible  into  their  language.  A  considerable  part  of 
his  version  of  the  Now  Testament  and  some  fragments  of  the  Old 
have  been  preserved,  and  on  these  venerable  remains  German 
philologists  have  based  their  knowledge  of  the  Gothic  language. 

For  our  knowledge  of  Old  High  German  and  its  scanty  literature, 


10  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEBATURB.  [Ch. 

we  are  mostly  indebted  to  some  studious  brethren  of  the  con- 
vents of  St.  Gallen  and  Fulda.  We  cannot  wonder  that  these 
monks,  who  employed  this  language  from  the  sixth  to  the  eleventh 
century,  endeavoured  to  destroy  the  remembrance  of  old  heathen 
ballads  that  were  inspii^d  by  a  love  of  warfare  and  a  spirit  of 
revenge.  Several  fragments  of  those  ballads  which  have  been 
preserved  to  our  times,  prove  that  from  such  materials  the  closing 
scenes  of  the  Nihehmgenlied  derived  their  savage  character.  In  one 
old  ballad  the  slain  are  every  night  recalled  to  life^  that  battle 
may  be  renewed  on  the  following  day.  In  another,  warriors,  after 
a  hard  fight,  sit  down  and  make  grim  jests  on  such  injuries  as  the 
loss  of  a  hand,  a  foot,  and  an  eye.  A  third  ballad  describes  a  con- 
test between  a  father  and  his  son«  Legends  like  these  were,  how- 
ever, sometimes  preserved  by  the  monks,  who  found  them  useful 
as  aids  to  the  study  of  the  people's  language.  .  Thus  it  happens  that 
the  last  of  the  ballads  referred  to  above  was  preserved  in  a  religious 
book  of  the  ninth  century,  having  doubtless  been  written  down  by 
a  monk.  Karl,  the  great  German  king  (Chariemagne)  was 
zealous  for  the  culture  of  a  national  literature,  and,  in  obedience  to 
his  will,  a  collection  of  old  ballads  was  made.  Though  his  son 
Ludwig  consigned  them  to  neglect,  they  were  not  entirely  for- 
gotten, but  lived  among  the  people,  and  rea{:;peared,  with  a  change 
of  dress,  in  the  twelfth  century. 

The  Old  High  German  language  lived  from  the  sixth  to  the 
close  of  the  eleventh  century.  Fragments  of  translations  from  the 
New  Testament^  and  of  creeds,  hymns,  and  monastic  rules,  written 
in  German,  prove  that  the  monks  had  already  partly  done  what  Karl 
demanded.  The  two  monasteries  of  St.  Gallen  and  Fulda  were 
the  chief  schools  for  the  culture  of  a  national  religious  literature. 
In  the  first,  founded  by  St.  Gall  in  705,  a  monk  named  Kero,  about 
760,  made  an  interlinear  version  of  the  Benedictine  Bules,  and 
translated,  it  is  said,  the  Te  Deum,  with  other  hymns  ascribed  to 
St.  Ambrose.  A  translation  of  the  Apostles'  Creed,  made  at  St 
Gallen  in  the  eighth  century,  shows  that  that  symbol  could  then 
be  expressed  as  concisely  in  German  as  in  Latin.  The  Heliand^  a 
Life  of  Christ,  freely  translated  from  the  Gospels  into  alliterative 
verse,  is  believed  to  have  been  writteti  in  obedience  to  the  com- 
mands of  King  Ludwig  der  Fromme  (Louis  le  D^bonnaire).  It 
is  in  the  Old  Saxon  language,  and,  while  it  gives  hardly  more  than 
the  letter  of  the  Gospel,  preserves  some  traits  of  heathen  times. 


IJ  OTFRIED— NOTKER.  11 

Among  the  passages  treated  by  the  writer^  we  may  notice  his 
version  of  the.  prophecy  of  the  end  of  the  world,  and  the  transla^ 
tion  of  the  narrative  of  the  Nativity^  which  begins  thus : — '  They 
were  watchmen  who  first  were  aware  of  it ;  herdsmen^  out  in  the 
field  [and]  guarding  horses  and  cattle,  saw  the  darkness  in  the 
air  melt  away,  and  God's  light  came  gladly  through  the  clouds 
and  surrounded  the  watchers  in  the  field.  Then  the  men  feared 
in  their  soul.  They  saw  God's  mighty  angel  come,  and,  having 
turned  towards  them,  he  commanded  the  herdsmen  in  the  field : 
''Fear  not  for  yourselves  any  evil  from  the  light.  1  shall  tell  you,  in 
truth,  news  very  desirable  and  of  mighty  power;  Christ — the 
Lord,  the  Good — is  bom  this  night  in  David's  town,  whereof  the 
race  of  men  may  rejoice." '  The  chief  traits  of  the  HeUand  are  its 
alliterative  verse  and  its  German  epic  tone — both  derived  from  old 
heathen  ballads.  These  national  characteristics  are  not  found  in 
the  Kristj  a  rhymed  harmony  of  the  Gospels,  which  was  written 
by  a  monk  named  Otfried  (776-856),  who,  for  some  time,  studied 
at  Fulda.  His  work — the  oldest  knovm  in  German  rhymed  verse 
— is,  as  a  narrative,  inferior  to  the  HeUand,  The  story  is  less 
popularly  told,  and  is  interrupted  by  reflections.  The  unknown 
author  of  the  HeUand  describes  the  end  of  the  world  as  ho  would 
the  close  of  a  battle,  and  does  not  stay  to  moralize ;  but  Otfried, 
after  telling  how  the  Wise  Men  from  the  East  returned  into  their 
own  land,  appends  a  homily,  reminding  Christians  that  this  world 
is  not  their  home,  and  exhorts  them  to  prepai*e  for  another. 

Another  production  in  rhymed  verse,  the  Ludioigslied — a  lay  on 
the  victory  of  Ludwig  III.  (881) — has  been  ascribed  to  a  monk  who 
died  in  930 ;  though  it  has  the  traits  of  a  popular  ballad.  We 
are  alsq  indebted,  to  monastic  students  for  several  Latin  transla- 
tions o£  German  ballads  and  of  the  stories  of  the  Fox  and  the 
Wolf — Eeynardus  and  Isengrimus,  The  latter  enable  us  to  trace 
the  well-known  medisBval  tale  of '  Heynard '  as  far  back  as  to  the 
tenth  century ;  but  its  origin  was  in  fact  far  earlier.  We  have 
already  referred  to  one  of  the  ballads  translated  into  Latin  as 
strikingly  indicative  of  a  delight  in  warfare.  It  may  be  noticed, 
in  passing,  that  for  eur  knowledge  of  the  history  of  these  times 
we  are  mostly  indebted  to  Latin  writers. 

NoTKER,  sumamed  Teutonicus,  a  monk  of  St.  Gallen,  who  died 
in  1022,  was  the  chief  representative  of  German  literature  in  his 
day.  He  wrote  translations  of  the  Psalms  and  of  some  treatises  by 


12  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEBATURE.  [Ch. 

Aristotle  and  BoetHus.  His  immediate  successore  were  inferior 
writers : — WiLLiRAM,  a  monk  at  Fulda,  who  wrote  a  paraphrase  of 
the  *l3ong  of  Solomon/  and  died  in  1085,  and  the  unknown 
author  of  a  book  on  cosmography  entitled  Merigarto  (the  garden 
surrounded  by  the  sea),  which  is  written  in  rhymed  prose. 

The  eleventh  century  was  a  time  of  darkne&s,  of  which  hardly 
any  literary  vestiges  exist  in  German.  During  that  time,  and 
in  the  opening  of  the  twelfth  century,  a  transition  was  made  from 
Old  to  Middle  High  German.  In  this  language,  Fkau  Ata^  who 
died  in  1127 — ^the  first  German  authoress  of  whom  we  have  any 
knowledge — wrote  a '  Life  of  Jesu.' 

Other  important  changes  were  coincident  with  this  transition  in 
language.  The  Crusades  awakened  the  knighthood  to  a  new  life, 
governed  by  new  ideas^  and  both  the  clergy  and  the  nobility  now 
became  more  distinct  as  castes.  The  clergy,  by  their  neglect  of 
German  literature,  loosened  the  bond  that  might  have  united 
them  more  closely  with  the  people.  ClTurchnien  became  more 
wealthy  and  more  independent  of  secular  support ;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  weaker  morally  and  intellectually,  than  the  monks  who 
had  first  preached  to  the  heathen  and  opened  schools  at  Fulda 
and  St  Gallon.  If  their  example  had  been  generally  followed, 
the  progress  of  German  civilisation  and  literature  would,  in  all 
probability,  have  been  more  steady  and  satisfactory  than  that 
which  we  have  to  describe.  But  even  in  this  earliest  period  we 
find  the  beginning  of  that  separation  of  learned  men  from  the 
general  sympathies  of  the  people,  which  was  more  remarkable  in 
a  later  time.  literature  was  regarded  rather  as.  a  world  in  itself 
than  in  its  relation  to  the  real  T^orld.  Scholars,  proud  of  their 
enlightenment,  concentrated  it  in  monastic  cells.  Learned  men 
studied  and  wrote  for  their  compeers,  rather  than  for  the*  people. 
While  the  uneducated  hardly  understood  the  simplest  rudiments 
of  moral  truth,  the  scholastic  divines. of  the  middle  ages  multiplied 
subtleties,  and  exercised  their  intellects  in  the  finest  distinctions  of 
doctrine.  A  barrier  of  language  was  raised  between  these  two 
classes.  Latin  was  the  language  of  all  respectable  literature  for 
some  centuries.  The  romances  and  other  poems  produced  during 
the  age  of  chivalry  form  exceptions  to  the  rule ;  but  it  was  main- 
tained, on  the  whole,  so  strictly,  that  even  at  the  close  of  the 
seventeenth  century  the  prejudices  of  the  middle  ages  remained. 


I.]  THE  CRUSADES.  13 

and  the  German  langaage  was  then  only  beginning  to  assert  its 
capabilities  as  a  vehicle  of  literature. 

The  Crusades  were  for  the  Church  both  a  triumph  and  a  failure. 
Tliey  served  to  increase  its  wealth;  but  at  the  same  time^  to 
diminish  its  intellectual  power.  The  knight  became  more  promi- 
nent than  the  churchman.  Literature,  once  confined  to  the  monk's 
'  cell,  was  now  transferred  to  courts  and  castles,  and  this  change  of 
residence  was  attended  with  new  internal  characteristics.  The 
Churchy  firmly  established,  was  less  careful  of  the  culture  of  the 
people,  and  monks  no  longer  interfered  in  the  making  of  ballads. 

* 

The  poetical  literature  that  was  one  of  the  results  of  these  changes 
in  the  Church  and  in  society  divides  itself  into  two  classes — a 
people's  literature  of  old  legends^  carried  about  by  wandering 
ballad-singers,  and  a  new  literature  consisting  of  songs  and 
romances,  and  mostly  patronised  by  the  nobility.  The  people, 
unwilling  to  forget  their  old  legends,  found  writers  who  revived 
them  in  a  form  suitable  to  compete  with  the  foreign  romances  of 
the  times ;  but  these  revivals  of  heathen  poetiy  were  not  generally 
acceptable  to  the  higher  classes.  Their  military  spirit  was  now 
tempered  with  some  elements  derived  from  the  Christian  religion. 
The  crusader^  though  a  warrior^  could  hardly  sympathise  with 
such  heroes  as  Hagen  and  Yolker  in  the  NihelungetiUed. 


14  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBB.  [Ch. 


CHAPTER  n, 
SECOND  PEBIOD,    1160-1360. 

THB  TIMES  OP  THE  H0EEKSTAT7FENS — CHTVAIiBT — THE  CRUSABES'— 
KATIOKAL  LEGENDS  :  THE  '  NIBBLUNGENLIBD '  ANI)  '  OUDRXJV  * — ^EAST 
GOTHIC  Aia>  LONOOBAED  I£0BND8. 

The  period  included  in  the  years  1150-1350  is  characterised  in 
German  history,  as  in  literature,  as  a  time  of  transitory  splendouTi 
followed  by  an  almost  total  eclipse.  The  fall  of  Eonradin  on  the 
scaffold  at  Naples  (in  1268)  marks  the  time  when  a  poetical 
literature  having  some  refinement,  but  mostly  confined  to  a  class, 
bej?an  to  decay.  It  was  followed  by  its  extreme  opposite,  the  low 
and  prosaic,  but  popular  literature  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries. 

It  is  hard  to  divest  the  times  of  which  we  now  write  of  their 
dreamlike  characteristics.  Distance  in  thought  has  a  greater 
power  than  distance  of  time.  We  find  ourselves  at  home  in  the 
sixteenth  century ;  for  there  we  meet  the  democratic  movement, 
and  the  political  and  religious  strife  with'  which  we  are  well 
acquainted  in  our  own  times.  Going  back,  in  imagination,  another 
century,  gr  rather  morQ,  we  are  still  in  an  intelligible  world,  for 
the  movement  that  promised  something  greater  than  the  Lutheran 
Keformation  was  beginning.  But  when  we  come  to  the 
Ilohenstaufen  times,  what  dreamlike  figures  meet  us  there  I — 
knights  in  armour,  longing  to  expiate  their  sins  by  a  pilgrimage 
to  the  Holy  Land,  and  ready  to  encounter  hosts  of  Saracens ;  yet 
amusing  their  leisure  by  composing  and  singing  such  over-refined 
and  artificial  verses  as  the  Minnelieder;  or  in  studying  foreign 
romances,  telling  the  adventures  of  Parzival,  King  Arthur,  Tristan, 
and  other  visionary  heroes.  Eealities  were  almost  as  dreamlike 
as  these  fictions.  The  Crusades  were  the^acted  romances  of  their 
time.    The  attempt  to  change  the  most  internal  and  spiiitiul  of 


Ch.  II.]      THE  TIMES  OF  THE  HOHENSTAUFENS.  15 

all  leligions  into  an  affair  of  locomotion,  with  pilgrimages,  bathings 
in  the  JordaD,  and  attacks  on  Saracens,  was  wilder  than  any 
legend  of  the  Court  of  Arthur,  and  had  less  of  a  true  religious 
purport  than  may  he  found  in  passages  of  the  *  Parzival '  romance 
as  told  by  Wolfram.  The  Crusades  indeed  served  a  greater 
purpose  than  the  development  of  commerce  and  civilisation. 
They  inflicted  a  deep  discouragement  on  extemalism,  and  referred 
men  back  from  Palestine  and  so-called  '  holy  places  '  to  the  heart 
as  the  birthplace  of  religion.  But  of  this  great  purpose  even 
Walther,  the  best  of  the  singers  of  Minneliedery  hardly  dreamed. 
He  hints  at  some  deep  emotion  when  he  tells  us  that  he  longed  to 
make  a  pilgrimage  to  Palestine,  as  a  means  of  gaining  absolution, 
and  '  a  full  release  from  all  his  sorrows,'  but  he  goes  no  farther.! 

From  the  time  of  the  great  emperor  Karl  down  to  the  twelfth 
century,  literature  wais  left  mostly  to  the  care  of  monks ;  but  in 
the  times  of  the  Crusades  the  inferior  nobility  became  the  chief 
representatives  of  such  culture  as  was  patronised  at  the  courts  of 
princes,  especially  those  of  Austria  and  Thuringia.  Townsmen 
were  mostly  occupied  with  the  interests  of  their  thriving  com- 
mercial guilds.  They  encouraged  art — especially  architecture — 
but  cared  nothing  for  such  poetry  as  the  knights  studied.  The 
poets  of  the  period  cared  as  little  for  the  pursuits  of  townsmen,  or 
.for  any  other  realities  of  life.  The  wealth  of  the  people  was  rapidly 
increasing,  thousands  of  serfs  had  become  freemen,  cities  were 
rising  and  threatening  feudal  institutions,  mines  were  discovered, 
and  a  taste  for  luxury  and  ornament  prevailed  among  the  towns- 
people. Their  grand  cathedrals  at  Ulm,  Strasburg,  and  Cologne 
were  the  best  ideal  works  of  the  age,  and  expressed  thoughts 
nobler  than  we  find  in  its  literature.  The  themes  selected  by 
versifiers  and  poets  were  mostly  foreign  or  antique.  Legends  of 
Arthur's  Court  were  borrowed  from  France  and  Belgium,  and 
Virgil's  ^neid  was  turned  into  a  mediaeval  love-story.  Of  the 
contests  of  the  Hohenstaufen  rulers  with  the  popes,  of  the  anarchy 
of  the  interregnum,  and  even  of  the  events  of  the  Crusades,  we 
find  few  traces  in  the  contemporary  German  literature — the  battle- 
poems  that  appeared  being  reproductions  of  old  national  ballads. 
In  their  lyrics  and  their  romances,  many  of  the  knights  who  wrote 
verses  seem  almost  destitute  of  national  feeling.  When  religious 
themes  are  introduced,  they  are  mostly  treated  apart  from  all 
application  to  life ;  but  the  ascetic  character  of  some  poems  seems 


16  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEEATUBE.  [Ch. 

as  unreal  as  the  love  expressed  in  many  of  the  Mhmdieder.  To 
read  thoug-lits,  we  must  turn  away  from  poetry  to  the  sermons  of 
brother  Berthold,  and  to  the  clear  didactic  prose  written  by  the 
so-called  Mystics. 

The  best  imaginative  works  of  this  time  are  the  two  national 
epic  poems — the  Nihelungenlied  and  Gudnm,  in  connection  wilh 
which  we  may  notice  briefly  some  less  important  national  legends. 

The  Nihelungenlied  may  be  traced  to  the  close  of  the  twelfth 
century,  when  it  was  put  together  from  materials  furnished  by  far 
older  ballads.  The  writer  or  compiler^  whose  name,  after  some 
guesses,  remains  unknown,  derived  the  substance  of  his  narrative 
from  several  legends  preserved  by  popular  tmdition^  strangely 
intermingled,  and  often  changed  in  their  purport.  Of  these  he 
made  a  selection,  and  while  he  preserved  well  the  characteristics 
of  an  age  antecedent  to  the  introduction  of 'Christianity,  he  gave 
to  his  work  certain  superficial  traits  of  the  days  of  chivalry.  For 
example,  he  tells  of  his  two  heroines  attending  mass,  and  mentions 
tournaments  as  pastimes  of  heroes;  but  both  Christianity  and 
chivalry  serve  as  mere  drapery,  under  which  the  heathen  character- 
istics of  the  old  ballads  are  clearly  visible.  Like  other  long  nar- 
rative poems  of  its  time,  the  Nibelungetilied  is  wanting  in  an 
artistic  union  of  its  parts.  It  divides  itself  into  two  stories ;  one 
ending  with  the  death  of  Siegfried,  the  other  closing  with  the 
fulGlment  of  Krierahild's  revenge  of  that  death.  When  contrasted 
with  the  romances  of  the  time,  this  national  epic  is  distinguished 
by  its  good  keeping  of  chai'acters,  by  the  absence  of  lifeless  de- 
scription and  forced  similes,  and  by  an  orderly  progress  of  events ; 
though  many  details  of  the  narrative — especially  those  of.  the 
closing  series  of  battles — ^seera  tedious  to  modem  readers.  The 
following  is  a  summary  of  the  story,  which  we  endeavour  to  give, 
here  and  there,  in  a  style  approaching  the  simplicity  of  the 
original : — 

There  lived  at  the  castle  of  Worms  on  the  Ehine,  a  princess  of 
.great  beauty,  named  Ej'iemhild,  the  sister  of  King.Gunther  of 
Burgundy.  In  another  fortress,  situate  lower  on  the  same  river, 
lived  the  hero  Siegfried,  the  dragon-slayer,  who  had  overcome 
in  battle  the  mysterious  and  unearthly  race  of  the  Nibelungen,  and 
had  taken  possession  of  their  great  hoard  of  gold  and  gems.  In 
another  adventure  he  had  slain  a  dragon,  and,  by  bathing  in  the 
dragon's  blood,  had  made  himself  invulnerable,  except  in  one 


n.]  THE  '  NIBELUNGENLIED.'  17 

spot  between  his  shoulders,  where '  a  stray  leaf  of  the  linden- tree 
had  faUen  and  hung.'  He  then  came  to  Worms  to  win  the  hand 
of  the  Princess  Kriemhild,  spite  of  a  'Naming  he  had  received  that 
his  love  must  end  in  grief.  He  was  welcomed  at  Worms,  and 
there  distinguished  himself  in  tournaments ;  hut  was  not  intro^ 
duced  to  the  lovely  princess  for  the  space  of  a  year.  Meanwhile, 
however,  he  had  won,  at  least,  hex  admiration ;  for  when  he  was 
engaged,  with  other  knights,  in  a  tournament,  Eriemhild,  at  the 
window  of  her  chamber,  would  look  with  pleasure  on  the  pastime, 
and  smiled  when  he  was  the  victor.  At  the  end  ol  the  year,  and 
when  he  had  rendered  military  service  to  King  Giinther,  the  hero 
was  introduced  to  the  princess,  and  they  were  soon  afterwards 
betrothed.  The  story  proceeds  with  the  recital  of  a  service 
rendered  to  the  king  by  Siegfried  that  was  of  an  extraordinary 
character,  and  seems  to  refer  to  some  legend  of  northern  mythology. 
There  lived,  we  are  told,  far  over  the  sea,  at  Isenstein,  an  Ama- 
zonian queen,  called  Brunhild,  destined  to  become  the  wife  of  any 
hero  who  could  prove  himself  her  superior  in  martial  prowess. 
This  task  was  too  formidable  for  GUnther  alone.  He  sailed  away 
to  Isenstein,  but  took  with  him  the  hero  Siegfried  j  and,  when  the 
queen's  challenge  was  accepted  by  Gunther,*  the  dragon-slayer, 
who  had  made  himself  invisible  by  the  use  of  a  charm,  gave  such 
assistance  to  the  king  that  Brunhild,  greatly  wonderiug,  was  com- 
pelled to  own  herself  defeated  and  won  in  the  battle.  She  then 
came  to  Worms  as  Queen  of  Burgundy,  and  soon  became  jealous 
of  the  honours  bestowed  on  the  dragon-slayer  and  his  bride.  Tba 
enmity  thus  begun  between  the  queen  and  Krienihild  soon  rose  to 
such  a  height  that  Brunhild  secretly  resolved  on  the  death  of 
Siegfried.  To  carry  out  her  design,  she  appealed  to  the  loyalty  of 
Hagen,  the  sternest  of  all  the  Burgundian  heroes — 

Fierce  Hagen  of  the  rapid  glances — 

and  represented  t6  him  that  she  had  been  grievously  insulted  by 
the  dragon-slayer  and  by  his  wife.  Loyalty  demanded  that  the 
queen's  wrong  must  be  avenged ;  but  even  Hagen,  not  daring  to 
encounter  Siegfried  in  an  open  and  fair  iight,  and  sacrificing  good 
faith  as  a  man  to  his  loyalty  as  a  vassal,  stooped  to  a  base  act  of 
treachery — the  most  unpleasant,  but  perhaps  not  the  least  cha- 
racteristic feature  in  the  whole  narrative.  He  now  pretended  to 
be  the  devoted  friend  of  Siegfried,  and  declared  he  would  stand 

0 


18  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATUKE.  [Ch. 

by  bis  side  and  protect  him  in  an  approaching  battle.  By  Hagen's 
persuasion,  the  unsuspecting  princess  marked  on  her  husband^s 
coat  the. place  between  the  shoulders  where  he  was  yulnerable. 
TIagen  then  invited  the  hero  to  join  a  party  going  to  hunt  wild 
boars  in  a  neighbouring  forest.  In  several  passages  of  the  story 
the  dreams  and  forebodings  of  women  are  described  as  prophetic, 
according  to  the  belief  of  the  ancient  Germans.  At  this  crisis, 
when  the  dragon-slaj^er  was  hastening  away  at  mom  to  join  the 
hunting  party,  Kriemhild  entreated  him  to  stay  at  liome.  '  For  I 
have  had  a  dream/  she  said,  '  that  two  wild  boars  were  chasing 
you  along  the  wood,  and  the  grass  was  wet  with  your  blood ;  and 
another  dream,  just  before  I  awoke,  that  two  ixK^ks  fell  upon  you 
as  you  walked  along  a  dale.'  But  the  dragon-slayer  enfolded  his 
wife  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her,  to  banish  her  fears^  until  she 
gave  him  leave  to  go.  Theil  he  hastened  away  into  the  great  forest, 
where  he  had  to  meet  enemies  more  formidable  than  the  wild 
boars.  There  was  a  clear^  cool  spring  in  the  forest,  and  the  hero^ 
warm  with  the  chase,  was  stooping  to  drink  when  Hagen  thrust  a 
spear  through  his  victim,  just  at  the  fatal  spot  which  Kriemhild^s 
own  hand  had  marked.  The  body  of  the  lifeless  dragon-slayer 
was  carried  home,  and  Kriemhild,  after  recovery  from  her  first 
violent  sorrow,  demanded  the  trial  of  the  bier,  in  order  to  detect 
the  assassin  of  her  husband.  Several  heroes  passed  beside  the 
bier,  and  when  Ilagen's  turn  came,  drops  of  blood  trickled  from 
the  corpse  and  silently  accused  the  murderer.  Now  Kriemhild 
knew  the  man  who  had  slain  the  hero-husband  she  had  loved  and 
adored,  and  her  soul  soon  became  as  still  as  a  pool  frozen  hard  in 
the  depth  of  winter.  She  had  hitherto  had  but  one  bosom-thought 
— ^love  for  Siegfried.  She  had  still  but  one,  but  it  was  now 
revenge.  Hagen  should  die,  if  all  Burgundy  must  die  with  him. 
That  was  her  resolution,  and  for  its  fulfilment  she  waited  thirteen 
years  and  more.  The  first  part  of  the  story  ends  here  and  leaves 
Kriemhild  in  deep  and  melancholy  seclusion  at  her  castle  of 
Worms  on  the  Rhine. 

Hagen,  having  feared  lest  she  should,  by  a  distribution  of  her 
wealth — ^the  hoard  of  gold  and  gems  carried  away  from  the  Nibe- 
lungen — ^raise  a  powerful  party  in  her  favour,  carried  away  the 
treasure  and  buried  it  in  an  unknown  place  in  the  Rhine.  This 
wrong  also  was  endured  in  silence  for  thirteen  years,  aud  then  the 
opportunity  for  revenge,  so  long  waited  for,  presented  itself  to  the 


n.]  THE  '  NIBELTJNaENLIED.'  19 

"Widow  of  the  dragon-slayer.  Etzel,  the  King  of  the  Huns,  sent 
one  of  his  chief  vassals^  Kiidiger,  the  noblest  character  in  the  story^ 
to  ask  for  the  hand  of  Siegfried's  widow.  She  cared  nothing  now 
for  royal  splendour,  and  had  no  wish  to  leave  her  solitude,  but 
she  resolved  to  accept  a  second  husband  as  a  means  of  avenging 
the  death  of  the  first.  Accordingly  she  departed  from  Burgundy, 
and  travelled  with  Kiidiger  and  his  escort  into  the  land  of  the 
Huns.  There  she  was  hailed  on  the  confines  of  Hungary  by  Etzel, 
who  was  accompanied  by  a  host  of  warriors.  *  'Tis  well,*  said 
Kriemhild,  when  she  first  saw  the  army  coming  to  meet  her ;  '  I 
shall  have  warriors  now  who  will  avenge  my  wrong/  A  festival 
of  several  days  followed  her  artrlval  in  Vienna,  and  the  beauty  of 
their  queen  won  enthusiastic  praises  from  the  chief  vassals  of 
Etzel  'y  but  in  the  midst  of  all  their  splendid  array  her  heart  was 
still  with  Siegfried  in  his  castle  on  the  Rhine.  A  few  more  years 
passed  away,  and  then  the  Queen  of  the  Huns  proceeded  to  carry 
her  plan  of  revenge  into  execution.  She  persuaded  King  Etzel  to 
invite  King  Giinther  and  his  heroes  into  the  land  of  the  Huns. 
*  For,'  said  she, '  what  will  our  subjects  think  of  their  queen,  if  my 
powerful  kinsmen  do  not  visit  me  ?  '  "When  the  invitation  was 
received  at  Worms,  its  purport  was  at  once  suspected  by  Hagen, 
who  said  to  the  king, '  Be  assured  that  the  wife  of  Etzel  will  seek 
to  revenge  the  death  of  Siegfried.'  Other  gloomy  forebodings 
were  not  wanting;  the  king's  aged  mother,  whose  dreams  had 
previously  been  prophetic,  now  dreamed  that  all  the  birds  of 
Burgundy  lay  dead  in  the  fields.  But,  in  defiance  of  this  bad 
omen,  the  king,  with  a  host  of  followers,  set  out  on  his  journey 
into  the  land  of  the  Huns.  After  travelling  some  days,  they 
arrived  at  Bechlam,  the  castle  of  Riidiger,  by  whom  they  were 
well  received  and  entertained  with  great  hospitality.  Giselher, 
the  youngest  brother  of  King  Giinther,  was  here  betrothed  to  the 
fair  daughter  of  Kiidiger.  When  they  left  the  castle  of  Bech- 
lam, their  host  gave  a  sword  to  the  Prince  Gemot  and  a  shield  to 
Hagen.  As  they  rode  away,  Volker,  one  of  the  chief  warriors, 
who  was  also  a  ^nstrel,  tuned  bis  fiddle  and  sang  a  cheerful 
farewell  song : 

And  little  thought  their  host,  as  they  rode  along  the  shore 

Of  the  Danube,  that  his  eyes  must  greet  his  wife,  his  home,  no  more. 

When  the  Burgundians  arrived  in  firont  of  the  palace,  or  castle, 

c2 


20  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

of  King  Etzel,  the  queen^  with  a  cruel  joy,  was  glad  to  see  that 
Hflgen  had  come  with  them.  It  was  soon  noticed,  as  another 
bad  omen,  that  when  she  received  her  kinsmen,  she  gave  a  kiss 
to  none  save  Giselher^  the  youngest  prince,  who  had  taken  no  part 
in  the  death  of  the  dragon-slayer.  When  Hagen  observed  this, 
he  instinctively  fastened  ^his  helmet  more  tightly.  His  fears  of 
an  attack  by  surprise  had  been  mentioned  to  his  friend,  the  hero 
Volker,  and  when  all  the  other  Burgundians  went  to  rest  in  the 
vast  halls  of  .the  castle,  these  two  warriors  stdod  all  night  as 
sentinels  in  the  courtyard,  and  Volker,  with  a  sure  foreboding  of  the 
coming  events  that  were  now  casting  their  shadow  over  him,  sang 
fearlessly  the  death-song  of  the  royal  race  of  Burgundy. 

But  some  days  passed  away  without  any  outbreak  of  enmity, 
except  in  a  conversation  of  the  queen  with  Hagen.  Then  a  grand 
banquet  was  prepared ;  but  while  Hagen  and  many  of  his  friends 
were  feasting  in  one  of  the  halls  of  the  castle,  an  attack  was  made 
on  the  Burgundians  assembled  in  another  apartment.  The  news 
reached  Hagen  when  he  was  seated  at  the  royal  table.  He  rose, 
drew  his  sword,  and  said,  *  Now  we  drink  a  health*  to  the  dead, 
and  in  the  king's  own  wine.'  With  these  words  of  dreadful  pur- 
port he  smote  ofl'  the  head  of  Etzel's  youngest  son.  This  was  the 
signal  for  the  beginning  of  a  series  of  desperate  hand-to>hand 
battles  and  duels  j  but  the  noble  hero  Iviidiger  refused  to  take  any 
part  in  the  warfare.  His  fidelity  was  due  to  King  Etzel  j  but  he 
had  sworn  faithful  friendship  to  King  Giinther  and  his  men, 
whom  he  had  led  into  the  land  of  the  Huns.  The  conclusion  of 
the  poem  is  dreadful,  but  the  tale  of  carnage  is  relieved  by  the 
conduct  of  the  hero  of  Bechlam.  There  was  a  severe  contest  in 
his  heart  when  his  queen  commanded  him  to  call  his  followers  to 
arms  against  his  friends  the  Burgundians,  whom  he  had  lately 
entertained  in  his  castle.  *  Take  back,'  said  he,  to  King  Etzel, 
'  whatever  you  have  given  me,  but  set  me  free  from  this  service.* 
Etzel  might  have  relented  now,  but  Kriemhild  must  have,  at 
least,  the  life  of  Hagen,  and  as  all  the  Burgundians  are  bound 
toj^ether  by  loyalty  as  one  man,  her  commands  cannot  be  obeyed 
without  a  general  slaughter.  She  is,  moreover,  the  queen,  and 
Iliidiger  must  obey.  He  commended  his  wife  and  his  daughter  to 
her  care,  and  then  went  forth  to  battle  against  Giinther,  Hagen, 
and  their  companions.  *  God  forbid,'  satd  King  Giinther,  when 
the  purport  of  HUdiger's  coming  was  told, '  that  I  should  draw 


II.]  THE  '  nibelungenlied;  21 

my  sword  against  you,  the  friend  by  whom  I  have  been  led  into 
this  foreign  land.'  . '  I  bitterly  repent  that  I  ever  led  you  hither,' 
said  the  hero  of  Bechlam,  *  but  I  must  obey  my  queen,'  '  Stay ! ' 
said  Ilagen;  'the  good  shield  you  gave  me  at  Bechlam  has 
already  stopped  many  thrusts,  but  is  now  shattered.'  *  Then  take 
my  own  shield,'  said  brave  Riidiger ;  *  and  may  you  carry  it  home 
safely  to  Burgundy^  for  I  have  no  wish  to  live  after  this. '  And 
now,  the  queen  must  be  obeyed.  Defend  yourselves  I '  In  the 
combat  that  followed  Riidiger  fell  under  a  sword-cut  from  the 
weapon  he  had  lately  given,  as  a  pledge  of  long  friendship,  to  tlie 
Prince  Gemot.  When  Dietrich  of  Berae,  another  of  Etzel's  chief 
Tossals,  heard  of  Riidiger's  death,  he  sent  his  hero,  Hildebrand,  to 
assemble  new  forces  and  attack  the  Biirgundians.  After  a  des- 
perate conflict  Hildebrand  returned  alone  to  call  for  the  aid  of 
Dietrich.  At  last  King  Giiiither  and  Ilagen — the  sole  survivors 
now  of  all  the  Burgundian  company — were  exhausted  by  long 
fighting  and  made  prisoners.  The  king  was  placed  in  confinement^ 
while  his  last  wairior  was  led  into  the  presence  of  the  queen. 
'Restore  to  me,'  said  she,  'my  Nibelungen  treasure.'  When 
Ilagen  refused  and  still  defied  her,  she  gave  commands  that  King 
Giinther  should  be  put  to  death.  Then,  turning  to  Hagen,  she 
said, '  I  have  still  one  precious  relic — Siegfried's  own  sword  ; '  and, 
drawing  it  from  its  scabbard,  she  with  one  blow  beheaded  the 
wounded  and  exhausted  prisoner.  The  hero  Hildebrand,  enraged 
to  see  such  a  warrior  perish  by  the  hand  of  a  woman,  forgot  for  a 
moment  that  she  was  the  queen,  and  the  death  of  Kriemhild  by  the 
hand  of  her  own  vassal  ended  the  tragedy.  All  the  sorrow  that 
followed  at  the  court  of  King  Etzel  and  in  many  bereaved  families 
is  told  in  the  Klage  (Lamentation),  an  inferior  poem  of  the  twelfth 
centuiy. 

Such  is  the  story  of  the  Nibelungetilied.  Though  its  concluding 
scenes  are  extremely  savage  and  lie  beyond  the  pale  of  our  sym- 
pathies^ this  old  epic  developestwo  motives  that  command  admirar 
tion.  The  first  is  the  long-enduring  love  of  Kriemhild.  In 
Siegfried  she  had  known  a  hero  who,  possessing  supernatural 
power  in  addition  to  his  personal  beauty  and  his  steadfast  kind- 
ness, seemed  to  her  of  more  value  than  a  whole  host  of  mere 
waiTiors  like  Hagen  and  Volker.  For  his  sake  she  mourned  long 
years  in  solitude  ;  to  avenge  his  death  she  married  an  alien  king 
and  sacrificed  her  own  nearest  relatives.    Such  power  and  endu« 


22  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

ranee  of  will  commands  admiration,  even  while  we  deplore  its 
devotion  to  no  higher  purpose  than  that  of  revenge.  The  other 
nohie  motive  that  controls  all  the  chief  events  of  the  narrative  is 
that  of  loyalty  unconquerable.  Not  to  gratify  any  personal  spite^ 
nor  to  gain  any  selfish  advantage,  did  Hagen  slay  Siegfried ;  but 
to  avenge  a  wrong  believed  to  have  been  inflicted  on  the  queeii. 
In  good  faith,  and  all  bound  together  as  one  man  by  the  principle 
of  mutual  loyalty,  the  Burgundians  go  into  the  land  of  the  Huns. 
They  go  because  they  mtisty  though  they  have  gloomy  forebodings 
of  the  result.  However  erroneous  in  the  purposes  to  which  it 
may  be  devoted,  the  power  that  binds  men  together  so  deeply  and 
closel}',  and  makes  them  all  one  in  facing  an  enemy,  will  be  both 
honoured  and  formidable  as  long  as  the  world  endures.  Kiiemhild 
wishes  to  slay  one  man,  Hagen ;  but  he  is  one  of  a  stem  union  of 
heroes,  and  if  he  must  die,  the  king  and  all  the  chief  warriors  of 
Burgundy  must  die  with  him.  That  is  the  thought  that  lifts  into 
the  realm  of  high  tragedy  some  passages  even  of  the  terrible 
closing  scenes  of  the  Nibelungenlied.  They  describe  a  fearful 
slaughter  attended  with  hardly  a  trace  of  any  personal  hatred. 
The  heroes  fight  like  lions,  but  wail  like  women  or  children  over 
the  slain. 

'  That  sorrow  ever  follows  love  '  is  the  key-note  of  the  tragic 
epic  above  described.  That  constant  love  is  at  last  rewarded  is 
the  sentiment  prevailing  throughout  the  epic  poem  of  Gudnm. 
With  regard  to  its  conclusion,  it  is  related  to  the  story  of  Kriem- 
hild's  revenge  as  '  All  *8  well  that  ends  well '  is  to  '  Othello ; ' 
while,  in  other  respects,  it  may  be  said  that  Chidnm  is  to  the 
NibeiungeTdied  what  the-  Odyssey  is  to  the  Iliad.  The  prevalence 
of  domestic  interest,  the  prominence  given  to  the  characters  of 
women,  thel  unity  preserved  throughout  the  long  story,  and  several 
improvements  in  style,  might  all  lead  us  to  asci-ibe  the  authorship 
of  the  poem  to  a  later  time  than  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, when  it  seems  to  have  been  known  as  a  modified  reproduc- 
tion of  some  far  older  narratives.  It  is  divided  into  three  parts,  of 
which  the  last  only  is  devoted  to  the  adventures  of  the  heroine 
Gudrun.  The  best  feature  of  the  poem  is  that,  in  its  conception 
of  love,  it  is  higher  and  more  comprehensive  than  many  poems 
and  romances  of  later  times ;  for  the  union  of  Herwig  and  Gudrun 
is  more  truly  characterised  by  sincerity,  constancy,  and  patience  * 
than  by  passion.  The  Princess  Gudrun^  we  are  told,  was  betrothed 


nj  '  GUDRUN.'  23 

to  Prince  Ilerwig  of  Seeland ;  but,  during  the  absence  of  ber 
father,  was  carried  away  from  his  realm  on  the  shores  of  the 
Baltic,  and  was  taken  to  Normandy  by  the  piratical  Prince  Hart- 
mut  and  his  attendants.  These  robbers  were  soon  pursued  by  the 
bereaved  father  and  his  followers,  and  a  sternly  contested  battle 
took  place  on  a  part  of  the  coast  called  the  Wulpensand.  So  fierce 
was  the  fight  that, '  when  the  evening-redness  had  died  away  in 
the  western  skyj  it  seemed  to  be  shining  out  again  in  the  glitter- 
ings  of  many  swords  striking  fire  from  the  helmets.'  Ilettel,  the 
father  of  the  heroine,  was  slain,  with  many  of  his  followers ;  but 
his  chief  warrior  survived  and  went  home,  there  to  wait  until  he 
'  could  raise  a  new  army  strong  enough  to  invade  Normandy. 
Meanwhile  the  heroine  remained  a  captive  on  a  foreign  shore,  and 
steadfastly  refused  to  give  her  hand  to  the  pirate  Hartmut,  who 
was  so  far  honourable  that  he  would  wsdt  for  her  consent.  He 
waited  long  in  vain,  and  his  mother,  Queen  Gerlint,  was  so  enraged 
at  this  treatment  of  her  son,  that  she  degraded  Gudrun  to  the  rank 
of  a  menial,  and  especially  employed  her  in  washing  linen.  It  was 
a  bleak,  frosty  morn  in  March,  and  the  captive  princess  and  some 
companions  were  hanging  out  white  linen  in  the  breeze  on  the  sea- 
coast,  when  her  betrothed  and  her  brother  with  many  followers 
landed  from  their  vessels  and  came  to  her  rescue.  A  recognition 
followed,  but  King  Herwig  refused  to  steal  away  his  bride.  He 
waited  until  night  came  on,  and  then  followed  a  battle  by  moon- 
light, in  which  the  men  from  the  Baltic  gained  the  victory.  A 
Tecouciliation  and  happy  conclusion  soon  followed.  It  must  be 
evident  from  these  outlines  that  the  interest  of  the  old  epic 
depends  rather  on  its  scenery  and  its  delineations  of  character 
than  on  its  plot.  The  scenery  is  fresh,  and  indicates  that  a  part 
of  the  story  had  its  origin  among  a  seafaring  people ;  the  charac- 
ters are,  on  the  whole,  distinct  and  well  preserved,  and  the  senti- 
ments are  frequently  more  chivalrous  and  Christian  than  such  as 
are  found  in  the  NibehmgenU&d — always  excepting  the  passage 
where  the  noble  RUdiger  goes  to  fight  with  Hagen. 

Several  national  legends  of  which  versions  probably  existed  in 
the  thirteenth  century,  and  which  were  partly  included  in  the 
*Book  of  Heroes,' editedP  in  the  fifteenth  century,  may  be  here 
briefly  noticed.  Their  merits  •are  by  no  means  such  as  to  rank 
them  with  '  Gudrun '  and  the  Lay  of  the  *  Nibelungen.'  In  Biterolj 
and  DieUieh  we  find  some  ill-counected  fragments  of  old  legends 


24  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

treated  in  the  style  of  tbe  Hohenstaufen  times.  We  have  two 
legends  under  the  title  of  Bx>sengarten.  In  one  of  them  a  fighting 
monk  named  Islan  is  the  most  original  character.  In  the  other 
the  hero  I>ietrich  defeats  a  formidable  dwarf,  Laurin,  whose  pre- 
ternatural power  is  dependent  on  his  keeping  safe  a  magic  ring. 
The  end  of  the  story  is  prosaic.  Laurin,  after  losing  his  ring,  is 
compelled  to  earn  his  livelihood  by  honest  labour.  This  was  the 
author^s  notion  of  punishment  and  degradation.  .  Another  East- 
Gothic  legend  tells  how  Dietrich,  after  slaying  a  giantess,  was 
imprisoned  in  a  tower  by  the  widower  jgiant  Sigenot ;  but  was 
released  by  Hildebrand  j  net,  however,  without  the  aid  of  a  dwarf. 
The  Eckenlied  tells  of  a  duel  of  two  days'  duration  fought  between 
Dietrich  and  a  giant,  and  we  find  the  same  hero,  still  lighting,  in 
several  other  stories  of  the  same  class,  of  which'  one  of  the  longest 
is  the  '  Battle  of  Eavenna.'  Warfare  for  the  sake  of  warfare,  or  to 
win  the  favour  of  princesses,  and  adventures  with  dwarfs  and 
giants,  supply  the  chief  materials  for  the  wild  stories  of  King 
JRoiKety  Ch'tnitf  Hugdietrich,  and  Wolfdietrichf  which  seem  to 
have  been  founded  on  some  legends  of  the  Longobards,  but  have 
the  scenes  of  some  of  their  adventures  laid  in  eastern  countries. 
In  several  of  these  stories  the  plot  depends  on  the  abduction  of  a 
princess.  Such  inferior  wdrks  of  imagination  hardly  deserve 
notice;  but  they  had  once  a  high  reputation,  and  were  partly 
reproduced  in  the  Heldenhtwh  (the  *Eook  of  Heroes*),  which 
passed  through  several  editions  in  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
.  centuries. 


IILJ  R03(IANCES  OF  CHIVALRY,  ETC.  25 


CHATTER  m. 
8EC02W  PERIOD.    1160-1360. 

BOVA27CBS  OF  CHIViXBT  A2n>  OTHEB  NABRATIYE  POEMS  :  'FABZITAL/ 
'TBISTAK/  'deb  ABHB  HBINBICH/ — GABXOYINGIAK,  AITTIQUK,  AlO) 
KONASTIC  LEGENDS — POFULAB    STORIES — '  BBTNABD  THE  FOX.' 

The  national  epic  poems  already  noticed  deserve  the  priority  we 
have  given  them  on  account  of  their  distinctive  German  origin ; 
but  they  did  not  form  the  most  characteristic  literature  of  the 
thirteenth  century.  This  was  supplied  by  the  romances  of  chivalry, 
mostly  founded  on  Breton  legends  of  King  Arthur's  ^ourt.  The 
broad  outlines  of  the  original  legend  afforded  plenty  of  space  fbt 
the  free  exercise  of  imaginatio;i,  and  might  be  filled  up  with 
endless  adventures,  such  as  long/aimless  wanderings,  tournaments, 
duels,  and  enchantments,  according  to  the  fancy  of  the  versifier. 
Arthur,  a  British  prince,  who  lived,  we  are  told,  in  the  sixth 
century,  and  bravely  resisted  the  English  invasion,  made  his 
court  the  home  of  a  noble  chivalry.  From  its  centre,  formed  by 
the  Twelve  Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  champions  went  forth 
into  all  parts  of  tHe  world  in  quest  of  adventures.  It  cannot  be 
difficult  to  explain  the  attraction  that  such  a  theme  had  for  the 
poets  and  versifiers  of  the  thirteenth  century,  when  we  know  that 
such  a  poet  as  Milton  had  great  delight  in  reading  the  story  of 
the  Arthurian  heroes,  and  meditated  writing  an  epic  on  the  mytli 
of  Arthur.  The  laureate  of  Queen  Victoria  and  the  versatile 
author  of  '  Pelham '  have  been  spell-bound  by  the  same  influence. 
The  appearance  of  such  romances  as  '  Parzival '  and  '  Tristan '  in 
Germany,  during  the  thirteenth  century,  was  hardly  more  re- 
markable than  that  of  the  '  Idylls  of  the  King '  in  our  industrial 
and  commercial  England  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Men  are 
imaginative  and  love  freedom,  and  both  freedom  and  imagination 
find  an  ample  field  of  playful  exercise  in  the  adventures  of  the 


26  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATURK  [Ch. 

knights  of  Arthur's  court  In  contrast  with  the  unreality  both 
of  sentiment  and  manners  found  in  most  of  these  tales  of  adven- 
tures, the  story  of  Tristan  and  Isolt — ^but  slightly  connected  with 
King  Arthur's  series  of  legends — ^is  marked  by  earnest  passion, 
and  may  be  described  as  modem  in  its  tone^  though  it  Was  the 
favourite  love-story  of  the  middle  ages.  Other  materials  for 
romance  were  supplied  by  the  Gral  Legend,  of  which  some 
account  will  be  given  in  our  notice  of  *  Parzival,*  and  by  Carlo- 
vingian,  antique,  and  monastic  legends. 

Seldom  has  a  contrast  appeared  in  literature  more  striking  than 
that  presented  to  us  in  the  two  most  remarkable  romances  of  the 
thirteenth  century — '  Parzival '  and  *  Tristan.'  The  former  is  cha- 
racterised in  its  best  passages  by  moral  earnestness,  and  sometimes 
approaches  asceticism ;  the  latter  is  gay  and  graceful  in  its  narra- 
tive, but  its  purport  is  '  of  the  earth,  earthy.'  The  former  is  often 
obscure,  but,  here  and  there  at  least,  a  *  light  from  Heaven '  shines 
out  of  the  gloom.  The  main  purport  of '  Parzival '  is  too  often  lost 
in  a  complication  of  many  episodes.  The  poet's  intention  is  some- 
times clear,  %ut  at  other  times  we  are  led  to  doubt  whether  he 
ever  even  faintly  dreamed  of  the  higb  purpose  ascribed  by  some 
able  critics  to  his  wild  and  weird  romance.  The  most  charac- 
teristic passages  of  the  two  stories  suffice  to  bring  out  the  remark- 
able contrast  of  the  two  poems.  Their  costumes  and  their 
adventures  belong  to  the  middle  ages;  but  tbeir  chief  moral 
characteristics  are  for- all  time.  The  two  heroes  still  have  many 
represeutAtives  in  the  real  world,  and  the  opposite  motives  of  the 
two  poems  are  still  contending  ■  in  the  hearts  of  many  men. 
Parzival  treats  life  as  a  discipline;  Tristan  ii^ould  make  it  'a 
perpetual  feat  of  nectared  sweets.'  Tristan  'swims  down  with 
the  tide  of  the  world ; '  Parzival  strives  upward  against  it.  The 
high  purport  ascribed  to  the  graver  romance,  and  the  doubts  that 
may  be  reasonably  entertained  respecting  the  author's  own  insight 
into  such  a  meaning,  both  contribute,  apart  from  its  poetic  merits, 
to  increase  our  interest  in  the  story.  Mysterious  lights  shine  here 
and  there  as  we  travel  through  the  forest. 

The  author,  a  poor  knight  named  Wolfram,  derived  his  materials 
from  a  French  version  of  the  two  legends  of  King  Arthur  and  the 
Gral.  The  lighter  and,  for  us,  the  less  interesting  parts  of  the 
story  belong  to  the  former  legend;  the  more  serious  and 
mysterious  passages  are  those  which  refer  to  the  Gral  legend. 


III.]  '  PABZIVAL.'  27 

But  the  two  legends  are  strangelj  mingled,  or,  we  might  eay, 
confused  together,  and,  instead  of  attempting  to  explain  the  plot  of 
their  complication,  we  shall  confine  our  attention  chiefly  to  one 
part  of  the  story.  All  that  may  he  said  here  of  the  legend  of 
Arthur's  Court  is,  that  Sir  Gawein  and  other  knights  of  the 
llound  Tahle  here  represent  the  splendour  of  worldly  chivaliy, 
'  the  pride  of  life,'  and  the  quest  of  high  renown ;  while  the  service 
of  the  Gral  demands  a  victory  over  self-love,  and  a  consecration 
of  life  to  religious  duty.  This  contrast,  we  may  repeat,  shines  out 
clearly  lonly  in  some  of  the  best  passages  of  the  story.  In  others 
it  disappears,  and  leaves  us  in  doubt  Whether  the  author  ever 
dreamed  of  it  Indeed,  it  may  very  fairly  be  said  that  there  is 
scarcely,  in  the  whole  compass  of  mediaeval  literature,  a  book 
harder  to  describe — ^not  to  say  explain — than  Wolfram's  '  Parzival.' 
The  following  is  a  smmnary  of  what  may  be  called  its  central 
legend : — 

The  Gral  was  a  chalice  (sometimes  mentioned  as  a  platter),  cut 
out  of  one  rare  chrysolite,  and  was  first  confided  to  the  care  of 
Joseph  of  Arimathea,  after  its  use  in  Christ's  last  supper  with  His 
disciples.  It  ever  afterwards  retained  a  healing  and  life-giving 
power.  To  be  appointed  one  of  the  guardians  of  the  chalice  was 
the  highest  dignity  that  could  be  conferred  on  a  man.  True 
penitence  and  humiliation  alone  could  fit  the  "heart  for  such 
service.  For  a  long  time  after  Joseph  of  Arimathea  had  brought 
the  chalice  into  western  lands  no  men  were  found  here  worthy  of 
its  guardianship.  At  last  it  was  confided  to  the  family  of  Titurel, 
of  which  Parzival  was  a  descendant.  The  old  King  Titurel  had 
built  a  temple  for  the  reception  of  the  Gral,  and  for  its  preserva- 
tion had  founded  an  order  of  knights  of  the  temple.  Wolfram 
describes  this  shrine  as  a  castle  situate  on  the  almost  inaccessible 
height  of  Montaalvage. 

Parzival,  who  belongs  by  birth  to  the  order  of  the  guardians  of 
the  Gral;  is  left  in  early  life  without  a  father,  and  is  brought  up 
in  deep  seclusion  in  a  forest,  where  he  receives  his  sole  education 
from  his  mother,  a  religious  woman,  who  keeps  her  son  in  igno- 
rance of  the  world,  and  especially  fears  lest  he  should  be  seduced 
by  the  splendour  of  chivalry.  She  teaches  him  to  fear  God  and 
to  shun  evil,  but  tells  him  nothing  of  his  own  noble  ancestry. 
Her  prayer  for  him  is  that  he  may  live  and  die  in  obscurity. 
Daring  his  boyhood,  spent  m  the  forest,  he  submits  himself  well 


28  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Oh. 

to  bis  motber^s  teaching,  and  seems  likely,  as  a  youth,  to  falfil 
her  hopes,  when  his  character  receives  suddenly  a  new  impress. 
He  is  made  discontented  with  his  life  in  solitude  by  meeting  on 
the  skirts  of  the  forest  three  knights,  who  tell  him  something  of 
the  splendour  of  an  unknown  world.  He  can  rest  now  no  longer 
in  the  shade,  but  must  go  forth  and  see  the  bright  scenes  of 
chivalry  of  which  the  knights  have  told.  Without  knowing  clearly 
the  object  of  his  own  ambition,  he  escapes  from  his  forest  home, 
and  goes  to  the  court  of  King  Arthur  at  Nantes.  There  his 
childlike  simplicity  excites  the  mirth  of  knights  and  ladies ;  but, 
after  receiving  some  instructions,  he  gains  distinction  in  chivalry ; 
among  other  exploits,  rescuing  a  queen  from  the  invaders  of  her 
realm.  But,  discontented  with  the  reward  of  his  valour,  he 
wanders  forth  again,  and  travels  far,  urged  on  by  a  vague  imrest, 
that  cannot  be  appeased  by  any  military  success. 

One  evening,  after  long  wanderings,  he  finds  himself  near  a 
lake  in  a  secluded  valley,  where,  in  reply  to  an  enquiry  for  a  place 
6f  shelter,  a  fisherman,  described  as  '  a  melancholy  man,  yet  richly 
clad,'  directs  him  to  a  lonely  castle  as  the  only  place  where  he 
may  find  entertainment  For  Parzival  has  now  arrived  in  a  deep 
solitude — ^a  region  where  only  knights  of  a  certain  high  lineage 
are  welcome.  He  goes  to  the  castle,  is  readily  admitted,  and 
there  witnesses  a  ceremony  ot  a  very  mysterious  character.  Li 
the  spacious  hall  four  hundred  knights  are  seated  around  their 
king.  Beautiful  mddens,  dressed  in  splendid  robes,  bring  in 
lights  and  censers,  and  take  their  places  near  the  throne,  ready  to 
bear  part  in  some  high  festival.  Last  of  all  comes  in  a  maiden  of 
surpassing  beauty  and  radiance,  bearing  '  the  chalice  cut  from  one 
rare  chrysolite.'  She  places  it  before  the  king,  who  gazes  devoutly 
on  it,  but  must  not  taste  its  contents.  Amid  all  the  rich  decora- 
tions of  ihe^eremony  a  deep  tone  of  sorrow  prevails.  Parzival 
sits  in -dumb  amazement,  unable  to  guess  the  meaning  of  the 
solemn  rites  which  he  beholds.  The  king  seems  to  have  been 
wounded,  and  when  a  page,  dressed  in  mourning,  enters  and  trails 
through  the  hall  the  spear,  with  blood  on  its  steel,  from  which 
the  king  received  his  wound,  the  assembled  knights  bow  their 
heads \n  lamentation.  Through  an  open  portal  Parzival  sees  now, 
in  an  interior  hall, '  an  old,  snow-white  man '  seated  on  a  couch, 
and  apparently  near  his  death.  The  wounded  king;  the  beautiful 
maidens  richly  attired  and  holding  u^  the  brilliant  lamps;  the 


ni.]  'PABZIVAL.'  •  29 

solemn  company  of  knights ;  the  djing  ^  snow-white  old  man ; ' 
the  glory  and  the  sorrow  of  the  ceremonial — all  excite  enquiry ; 
but  Parzival  remains  silent.  He  asks  no  question,  even  when  the 
king  calls  him  up  to  the  throne,  and  presents  to  him  a  sword  with 
an  intimation  that  it  is  to  be  used  in  the  service  of  the  donor.  J 
After  this  the  silent  champion  goes  to  rest.  In  the  momyig  ho 
rises,  and  finds  a  profound  stillness  within  and  all  around  the 
castle,  and  everything  prepared  for  his  departure.  As  he  rides 
away  down  the  dale,  the  seneschal,  standing  on  a  turret  of  the 
castle,  calls  after  him,  not  to  invite  him  back;  but  to  reproach 
him  for  his  diffidence  in  asking  no  questions.  Soon  afterwards 
he  meets  with  similar  reproaches  from  a  woman  whose  husband 
has  been  recently  slain  in  battle.  She  claims  Parzival  as  a  rela- 
tive, and,  when  she  finds  that  he  has  been  entertained  in  the 
Gral  Castle,  tells  him  that  he  has  been  guilty  of  a  fatal  error  in 
not  caring  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  rites  he  has  seen,  and  in 
neglecting  to  make  enquiry  respecting  the  wound  received  by  the 
king.  Amazed  by  these  reproaches,  the  hero  rides  away,  and, 
after  passing  through  other  adventures,  returns  to  the  court  of 
King  Arthur.  Here  he  would  gladly  rest  awhile ;  but  when  he 
is  seated  in  the  haU  an  angry  messenger  from  the  Oral  Castle 
arrives,  and,  in  the  presence  of  the  assembled  knights,  charges 
him  with  unfaithfulness  and  neglect  of  duty.  Hd  leaves  the 
court  of  Nantes,  and  again  wanders  far,  finding  no  service  worthy 
of  the  sword  given  to  him  by  the  wounded  king.    . 

Meanwhile  Sir  Gawein  and  other  knights  of  Arthur^s  circle  are 
engaged  in  an  adventure  to  loose  the  spell  cast  by  an  enchanter 
on  the  mansion  *  Chateau  Merveil  ^  and  all  its  inmates.  Parzival, 
alone,  rides  by  the  mansion,  and  hears  the  battle  cry  of  the  knights 
coming  to'  its  rescue,  but  takes  no  part  in  the  fight.  In  the 
course  of  subsequent  adventures,  he  meets  again  his  old  companion 
in  arms.  Sir  Gawein,  who  is  travelling,  without  knowing  it,  on  the 
road  that  leads  to  the  Gral  Castle.  A  dispute  arises  between 
the  two  champions,  and  ends  with  a  duel,  when  Gawein  falls 
wounded  by  Parzival's  sword.  In  another  part  of  the  story 
Parzival  rescues  Gawein,  who  has  been  attacked'  by  a  band  of 
robbers.  But  neither  these  nor  any  other  adventures  of  worldly 
chivalry  give  satisfaction  f  o  the  heart  of  Parzival.  He  represents 
so  far  a  man  of  heroic  impulse  who  has  no  knowledge  of  his  own 
true  destiny.    For  years  he  has  wandered  far  in  doubt,  and  now, 


30  OUTLINES  'OF  GERMAN  LITEIIATITEE.  [Ch. 

says  the  poet, believing  'neither  in  a  God  nor  in  any  Providence/ 
he  arrives;  on  a  Good  Friday,  at  the  cell  of  a  heimiti  who 
also  belongs  to  the  lineage  of  the  guardians  of  the  Gral.  The 
hermit  explains  to  the  knight  the  mystery  that  has  hitherto 
attended  his  adventures.  He  tells  him  that  the  wounded  king  in 
the  OAstle  has  made  himself  unworthy  of  his  ofRce  by  yielding  to 
the  seductions  of  earthly  love.  He  has  been  fighting  with  no 
higher  device  than  '  Amor  *  on  his  shield,  and  that  is  not  worthy 
of  a  guardian  of  the  GraL  Now  he  awaits  the  coming  of  the 
true  champion,  who  wQl  announce  his  arrival  by  asking  of  the 
safety  of  the  holy  chalice.  '  You,'  says  the  hermit,  '  have  been  in 
that  castle ;  you  have  seen  the  wounded  king,  who  is  your  uncle 
and  my  brother.  The  maiden  princess  of  surpassing  beauty,  who 
carried  in  the  Gral^  is  your  late  mother's  own  sister,  and  the 
snow-white  old  man  is  Titurel,  your  ancestor,  who  is  etill  there 
waiting  for  your  arrival.' 

In  the  sequel  of  the  story  Parzival  overcomes  all  difficulties, 
among  other  adventures  vanquishing  a  band  of  heathen  men  and 
gaining  the  victory  in  a  duel  with  the  great  heathen  prince  Feire- 
iiz  from  India,  in  whom  he  afterwards  recognises  his  own  half- 
brother.  This  recogflition  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  parts  of 
the  romance.  The  two  heroes  go  to  the  Gral  Castle,  where  Par- 
zival is  received  gladly,  and  is  crowned  its  King  and  Guardian 
of  the  Gral.  The  heathen  prince  Feirefiz  iBMs  in  love,  at  first 
sight,  with  the  maiden  who  carries  the  sacred  chalice.  They  ai'e 
married,  and,  after  their  return  to  India,  they  have  a  sob,  who,  as 
'  Presbyter  John,'  rules  over  an  extensive  Christian  state  in  the 
centre  of  Asia. 

So  ends  this  wild  and  weird  story.  To  state  briefly  our  im- 
pression of  it,  on  turning  again  and  again  to  the  more  significant 
passages,  we  feel  sure  that  they  are  symbolical,  and  include  a 
second  meaning.  For  example,  that  radiant  princess  who  bears 
the  Gral  must  be,  it  seems,  intended  to  represent  the  spirit  of 
Chri^^tianity.  The  Indian  prince  may  be  a  symbol  of  heathenismy 
and  his  passion  for  the  princess  may  be  an  expression  for  the  vic- 
tory of  the  true  faith.  Such  an  interpretation  would  be  supported 
by  several  passage^  of  direct  and  plain  religious  purport ;  but 
there  are  other  passages  that  discourage  attempts  to  find  a  deep 
or  religious  meaning  in  the  story,  and,  with  regard  to  its  final 


i 


IIL]  •  TEISTAl^.'  81 

• 

purport,  the  reader  is  left  in  doubts  as  profound  as  those  of  Parzival 
on  his  own  true  destinj. 

The  poet  speaks  often  with  an  earnestness  and  depth  of  feeling 
that  is  surprising  in  one  of  the  Minnesingers.  His  genius  is 
lyrical  rather  than  epic,  and  sometimes  rises  to  a  bold,  poetic 
strain.  One  of  his  characteristics  is  that,  in  several  places,  he 
refers  to  his  own  history,  and  more  frequently  to  his  own  opinions ; 
but  his  egotism  is  frank  and  not  unpleasing.  Bat  for  these  pas- 
sages, the  liiile  that  is  known  of  his  life  would  have  been  nothing. 
WoLFRA.!!  YOK  EscHEiTBACH  was  A  poor  knight  and,  as  he  con- 
fesses, could  neither  read  nor  write ;  but  he  could  speak  French  as 
well  as  German.  Though  complaining  of  his  poverty,  he  betrays 
some  pride  of  ancestry.  His  feudal  lord  was  the  Graf  von  Wert- 
heim,  a  pleasant  little  town  situate  at  the  jimction  of  the  Main  with 
the  Tauber;  yet  he  calls  himself  a  Bavarian.  He  survived  his  chief 
patron,  the  Landgraf  Hermann  of  Thuringia,  who  died  in  1216. 

From  several  passages  in  'Parzival'  we  may  infer  that  the  author 
was  happily  married  and  had  children.  He  was  acquainted  with 
the  minnesinger  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide.  During  Wolfram's 
lifetime  his  style  was  condemned  by  his  clever  rival  Gottfried 
von  Stf  asburg,  who  called  it '  odd,  dry,  and  obscure.'  That  Gott* 
fried  could  write  more  fluent  verse  was  proved  by  his  *  Tristan ; ' 
but /Parzival'  survived  this  censure,  found  many  admirers,  and  was 
printed  in  1477.  The  poet's  grave  in  the  churchyard  at  Es<;hen- 
bach  used  to  be  shown  to  visitors  in  the  early  part  of  the^ven- 
teenth  century.  We  may  add,  for  the  benefit  of  students  of  old 
literature,  that  Simrock's  translation  of  '  Parzival '  is  remarkably 
faithful  to  the  original. 

Whatever  doubt  may  exist  of  the  purport  of '  Parzival,'  there  can 
be  none  respecting  that  of  the  rival  romance,  *  Tristan.'  It  may  be 
given  in  few  words--  ♦ 

.    ^c  dnloes  amores 
Sp^me,  puer,  neque  tu  choreas^ 
'^^^  Doaec  virenti  canities  abest 
.'^Vorosa. 

GottH&b  vok  STBASBima  wrote  the  romance  of  'Tristan '  about 

^07~16f  or  some  six  years  after  Parzival  had  gained  a  reputation ; 

8|^  though  he  wrote  twenty  thousand  lines,  he  died  before  the  ^ay 

|^9^story  was  completed.  He  was,  for  his  times,  a  well-educated  man^ 


■<* 


32  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAK  LITERATURE.  '  [Ch. 

but  apparently  did  not  belong  to  the  order  of  knightS;  for  be  sub- 
scribes bis  name  as  Master  Gottfried  of  Strasburg.  In  ease  and 
fluency  of  yersification,  and  in  all  the  -graces  of  style^  he  was  the 
best  German  poet  of  his  time.  He  could  say  lightly  and  cleverly 
whatever  he  had  to  say,  and  never  troubled  himself  with  any 
problems.  He  laughed  at  his  more  thoughtful  rival,  Wolfram,  for 
sending  out,  under  the  name  of  a  romance,  a  book  that  required  a 
key  or  an  interpreter.  The  author  of  *  Tristan'  describes  well  botli 
the  external  features  anil  the  mental  and  emotional  changes  of  his 
hero  and  heroine,  and  ably  developes  their  characters  in  passion 
and  in  action.  When  judged  by  the  standard  of  his  own  times,  he 
must  be  commended  for  the  good  taste  of  which  he  gives  proof  in 
several  passages,  while  treating  a  dangerous  subject  He  does  not 
bewilder  us  by  a  multitude  of  ill-connected  adventures.  The  con- 
struction of  his  story  is  comparatively  good  and  clear,  and  his 
versification  is  harmonious,  while  it  seems  to  be  eztemporav^eous. 
His  theme  is  '  Minne,'  or  Love ;  but  not  in  its  refined  meanings 
which  implies  little  more  than  kind  remembrance.  He  writes  the 
history  of  a  passion  out  of  union  with  the  whole  system  of  life  and 
it°  duties,  of  which  a  true  love  should  be  the  soul  and  the  centre. 
The  love  which  is  his  theme  is  not  that  deep,  quiet  source  of  the 
power  that  endures  opposition,  submits  to  law,  supports  the  burden 
of  existence,  establishes  homes,  binds  together  families,  and  or- 
ganises society ;  but  it  is  the  egoistic  and  socially  negative  passion 
that  would  break  all  the  bonds  of  duty,  would  reject  all  the  claims 
of  friendship  and  society,  and  prove  itself  as  fatal  to  the  true  de- 
velopment of  the  individual  as  to  the  interests  of  the  race.  It  is 
related  to  true  love  as  the  swift  and  transitory  lightning  and  the 
destructive  fire  are  to  the  genial  glow  of  summer  warmth  and  the 
expansion  of  light.  Of  this  passion  Gottfried  makes  Tristan  and 
Isolt  involuntary  and  helpless  victims.  It  was,  as  he  tells  us, 
nnder  the  influence  of  an  irresistible  charm  that  both  were  van- 
quished. But  while  he  tells  their  story  as  that  of  their  fate,  he 
hardly  treats  it  as  a  tragedy.  Their  faithlessness  and  their  trans- 
gression are  described  in  a  light  and  pleasant  tone,  and  with  an 
exuberant  cheerfulness  often  reminding  us  of  Chaucer  in  some  of 
his  Canterbury'  Tales.  The  tardy  precautions  of  the  wronged 
husband.  King  Marke,  are  treated  in  a  style  of  humorous  banter 
and  satire  that  would  not  seem  out  of  place  in  a  modem  French 
novel  of '  the  school  of  despair,'  as  Goethe  called  it:    '  Women  are 


1 


mo  'PER  AEME  heineich;  83 

all  the  true  daughters  of  Eve/  says  Gottfried ;  'she  broke  the  first 
commandment  ever  given,  and  simplj  because  it  was  a  command- 
ment. She  might  gather  as  she  pleased  all  the  fruits  and  flowers 
of  Paradise,  with  only  one  exception — the  parsons  have  certified 
that  it  was  but  a  fig— and  it  is  my  firm  belief  she  would  never 
have  tasted  that  if  it  had  not  been  forbidden.'  This  is  but  a  tame 
example  of  the  author's  liveliness  in  both  narration  and  reflection ; 
but  for  obvious  reasons  we  must  pass  silently  over  his  gayest 
passages.  As  he  left  the  story  unfinished,  it  has  been,  vnth 
extreme  charity,  suggested  that  he  might,  had  he  lived  longer, 
have  atoned  for  its  levity  by  appending  a  moral;  but  he  was 
too  good  an  artist  to  be  guilty  of  such  a  breach  of  continuity 
between  the  beginning  and  the  end.  Two  inferior  vmters  com- 
pleted the  romance  in  the  course  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and 
afterwards  honest  Hans  Sachs  made  a  drama  of  it  It  was  the 
favourite  love^tory  of  mediaeval  times.  In  modem  times  Im- 
mermann  devoted  his  genius  to  a^new  version  of  the  legend, 
but  died,  leaving  it  incomplete.  Other  poets  have  treated  the 
subject  so  often  that  this  brief  notico  of  the  story  will  doubt- 
less suffice  for  our  readers. 

One  of  the  best  of  the  versifiers  of  Breton  legends  was  Habticann  • 
TON  Aue;  but  he  was  always  unfortunate  in  his  choice  of  a 
subject.  Like  Gottfried,  who  praised  him  very  highly,  he  was  an 
educated  man,  and  possessed  a  talent  that  might  be  envied  by 
reviewers ;  for,  as  he  tells  us, '  he  could  read  without  fatigue  any 
book  that  ever  was  written.'  He  seems  to  have  joined  one  of  the 
crusades.  The  author  of  '  Tristan '  speaks  of  Hartmann  as  still 
living  in  1207,  and  adds, '  he  can  tell  a  story  in  words  as  clear,  as 
crystaL'  It  seems  certain  that  he  died  before  1220.  His  best 
poem,  with  respect  to  its  style  and  form,  is  *  Iwein  ',  *  but  its  story 
is  not  attractive.  The  romance  of  '  Erek '  is  the  author's  weakest 
production.  In  his  tale  of  '  Gregorius,'  though  his  purpose  was 
good,  he  treated  a  subject  that  no  skill  could  render  even  tolerable. 
The  same  censure  may  be  applied,  if  we  accept  the  judgment  of 
Goethe,  to  the  story  of  Der  arme  Heinrich  which,  however, 
has  been  highly  praised  by  other  critics.  We  are  here  told  that 
a  nobleman  afilicted  with  leprosy  was  miraculously  cured.  The 
love  of  life  had,  however,  proved  itself  so  excesSve  in  his  case, 
that  in  order  to  qbtain  a  cure,  he  had  consented  to  the  sacrifice  of 
an  innocent  maiden's  life.    It  is  impossible  to  tolemte,  even  in 


M  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Oh. 

fiction,  the  gross  improbabilities  assumed  in  the  story;  but  we 
must  allow  that  its  details  are  in  some  passages  given  with  admir- 
able simplicity  and  pathos.    The  story  runs  as  follows : — 

There  lived  in  Suabia  a  rich  landlord,  Heimich  von  Aue,  noted, 
during  his  prosperity,  as  much  for  his  goodness  as  for  his  wealth. 
But  the  virtues  that  had  made  him  a  model  while  all  men  spoke 
well  of  him  failed  in  his  deep  adversity,  when  he  became  a  leper 
and  was  shunned  by  his  nearest  relatives.  He  had  neither  the 
faith  nor  the  enduring  power  of  Job.  In  restless  quest  of  a  cure 
for  an  incurable  disease,  he  travelled  to  Salerno,  then  famed  for 
its  medical  school.  '  You  are  curable  and,  at  the  same  timie,  in- 
curable/ said  one  of  the  learned  doctors  there ;  and  when  Heinrich 
demanded  some  explanation  of  the  paradox,  it  was  added,  *  Curable, 
because  a  medicine  for  you  exists  in  theory ;  incurable  because  the 
medicine  cannot  or  must  not  be  found.  If  a  pure  maiden,  free 
from  all  constraint,  would  die  for  you,  you  liiight  be  cured ;  but 
on  no  other  condition.'  Utterly  disappointed,  Heinrich  •  returned 
from  Salerno ;  he  sought  for  no  victim  to  his  own  love  of  life,  but 
left  to  the  care  of  others  all  his  wealth,  and  retired  into  a  profound 
solitude,  where  he  found  lodgings  in  a  mean  farmhouse  inhabited 
by  one  of  his  own  poorest  tenants.  The  devotion  of  this  boor  and 
his  wife  to  the  service  of  their  landlord  is  well  described.  But 
their  kindness  was  far  exceeded  by  that  of  their  only  child,  a  girl 
twelve  years  old.  The  parents  gave  all  the  care  and  attendance 
their  guest  required ;  but  the  fearless  and  innocent  girl  solaced 
his  solitude,  and  gave  the  cheerfulness  of  her  own  heart  to  cheer 
him.  The  boor  and  his  wife  acted  with  some  regard  to  their  own 
interest;  for  they  feared  lest,  when  Heinrich  died,  they  should 
find  his  successor  a  harder  landlord.  When  they  urged  him  to 
try  the  skill  of  the  doctors  at  Salerno,  he  recounted,  in  a  tone  of 
despair,  the  result  of  his  visit  to  their  school,  and  repeated  all  that 
had' there  been  said  to  him.  The  little  maiden,  unobserved,  was 
listening  to  the  strange  story.  She  retired  to  think  of  it,  and 
dwelt  upon  it  so  earnestly,  that  she  dreamed  of  it  all  night ;  and 
day  after  day  she  thought  of  it,  until  a  marvellous  resolution  fol- 
lowed all  her  musings.  She  would  die  for  Heinrich  I  The  author 
of  the  story  says  all  he  can  to  make  this  moral  miracle  seem  in 
some  degree  probable.  He  refers  to  the  girPs  religious  faith.  She 
really  believed  there  was  such  a  place  as  heaven,  and  that  life 
there  was  the  only  life  worth  craving.    Then  she  thought  of  the 


ni.]  'DER  ARME  HEINRICH.'  85 

prospects  of  her  pnrents,  and  how  their  old  age  might  he  comfort- 
ahle  if  their  good  landlord  lived,  and  was  restored  to  health.  The 
amazement  and  terror  of  the  hoor  and  his  wife,  when  their  child 
expressed  her  wiah  to  die,  are  well  told-  *  Child  I '  said  the 
mother ;  '  you  little  dream  what  it  is  to  die ! — what  it  is  to  leave 
all  we  love  here,  and  go  to  lie  alone  in  a  cold  grave!'  The 
mother  sees  only  death  in  death,  hut  the  child  sees  the  gateway 
of  heaven.  To  persuade  her  parents  to  consent,  she  now  talks — 
too  thoughtfully  for  her  years — of  the  vanity  of  life,  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  sorrow  for  one  horn  in  such  a  low  condition  as  her  own. 
If  all  that  pious  men  have  said  of  heaven  be  true,  there  can  be  no 
los8|  surely,  in  going  early  to  dwell  there  with  a  Divine  Friend, 

IfVhose  home  no  wants,  no  cares  assail — 
^ith  hunger  there  no  children  wail; 
None  perish  there  from  winter's  cold ; 
Tears  never  make  the  angels  old; 

And  none  can  take  their  joys  away ; 
While  here  yonr  twelve  months*  scanty  gain. 
Hard  earned  by  all  yoor  toil  and  pain. 

May  perish  in  a  singly  day. 

She  argues  and  pleads  so  long  and  so  well,  that  another  miracle 
follows — her  parents  give  their  consent  to  her  intended  self- 
sacrifice  !  But  Heinrich,  when  it  is  offered,  sternly  refuses  for  a 
long  time  to  accept  it.  Long  pleadings  follow,  and  the  immode- 
rate love  of  life  in  the  leper's  heart  gives  still  greater  force  to  the 
arguments  of  the  child.  Then  follows  the  most  incredible  part  of 
the  incredible  story,  The  parents  with  their  child  and  their 
afflicted  landlord,  go  to  Salerno.  There  the  doctor— or  rather  say, 
executioner — first  assures  himself  that  the  sacrifice  is  purely 
Tolunt&ry — then  lifts  the  fatal  knife,  while  the  maiden  fearlessly 
lays  bare  her  bosom.  '  But  the  sacrifice  shall  not  be  oflered  I ' 
exclaims  Heinrich,  whose  selfishness  is  suddenly  melted^  Already 
restored  to  soundness  of  mind,  he  returns  with  his  poor  friends 
into  Suabia.  On  their  way  home  he  is  miraculously  cur^d,  and 
at  the  same  time,  made  to  appear  twenty  years  younger.  The 
sequel  may  be  guessed.  He  rewardd  the  boor  and  his  wife  by 
making  them  free,  and  giving  them  a  part  of  his  estate.  He  calls 
tc.gt»iher  all  his  friends,  who  come  to  see  him  now.  When  they 
are  assembled  in  his  hall,  he  tells  how  he  has  been  healed  in  mind 

and  body  by  the  devotion  of  a  maiden,  and  then  introduces  her  aa 

d2 


86  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

Ins  betrothed.    Their  marriage  forms,  of  course,  the  conclusion  of 

this  marvellous  story,  of  which  the  style  b  better  than  the  subject; 

It  has  a  melody  of  words  and  a  simple  natural  pathos  that  should 

have  been  devoted  to  the  treatment  of  some  tale  that  might  have 

been  believed.    Hartmann  follows  the  hero  and  the  heroine  to 

their  grave,  assures  us  that  they  went  to  heaven^  and  ends  with  a 

short  prayer — 

Such  bliss  as  was  their  portion  then 

May  God  bestow  on  us  I    Amen. 

Of  the  CarloTingian  legends  of  this  time,  yersified  by  Germans, 
two  may  be  briefly  noticed : — the  *  Rolandslied '  by  Konrad,  and  the 
love-story  of '  Flore  and  Blanscheflur  *  by  Eonrad  Fleck.  The  latter 
is  yery  slightly  connected  with  traditions  of  the  great  emperor 
Karl.  The  story  of  the  former — ^the  hero  of  Roncesvalles,  and  of 
French  legendary  lore — is  enough  to  make  a  good  ballad;  but 
hardly  supplies  materials  for  an  epic.  Koland,  fighting  against 
overwhelming  heathen  forces  in  Spain^  defeats  one  host  of  foes, 
but  another  is  soon  mustered  against  him.  At  last,  wounded  and 
almost'  exhausted,  he  winds  from  his  horn  such  a  blast,  that  it 
sounds  through  all  the  din  of  battle,  and  far  away  to  Karl's  head- 
quarters. The  emperor  hears  the  signal,  and  hastens  to  rescue 
the  hero,  but  finds  him  dead.  Konrad's  work  seems  to  be  nothing 
more  than  a  dry  translation  of  a  French  original. 

Among  the  romances  founded  on  antique  traditionSi  the 
'  Alexander/  written  by  Lamprecht,  a  priest,  is  the  most  notice- 
able. The  hero  is  represented  as  writing  an  account  of  his 
adventures  in  the  East ;  but  seems  to  be  no  more  restricted  by 
a  regard  to  facts,  than  his  quasi-biographer  Quintus  CurtiuB. 
Among  other  prodigies  related  by  Alexander  in  a  letter  to  his 
tutor  Aristotle,  we  find  an  account  of  a  forest — 

,  Where  on  the  mossy  tnrf  there  grew 
Laiige  rose-buds  beautify  to  view- 
Some  as  white  as  drifted  snow ; 
Others  had  a  ruddy  glow. 
We  gazed  with  wonder  there^  beholding 
Each  its  fhigrant  leaves  unfolding; 
For  out  of  every  flower-cup  there 
Stepp'd  a  maiden  young  and  fair, 
Rosy  as  evening  dues  and  brightp 
In  youth  and  joy,  as  morning  ligh 

AlezandQii  having  conquered  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and 


m.]  MONASTIC  LEGENDS.  37 

still  in  his  ambition  '  insatiable  as  hell/  arrives  at  the  gates  of 
heaTen,  and  intends  to  talce  it  by  storm,  fiat  an  angel  informs 
the  hero  that  heaven  is  not  to  be  won  in  this  way,  and  exhorts 
him  to  retnm  to  his  own  country,  and  learn  the  virtue  of  self- 
control.  Lamprecht  was  indebted  to  a  French  original,  and  con- 
structed his  story  with  some  art ;  but  we  find  little  in  his  pOem  to 
jufitify  all  the  praise  bestowed  on  it  by  Gervinus.  Another  poem 
of  the  same  class  is  the  '  ^Eneid/  or  '  Eneit/  as  the  author  styles 
it,  by  Heinrich  von  Veldeke.  It  is  a  sentimental  love-tale,  made 
out  of  some  parts  of  VirgiFs  epic,  and  has  considerable  merits  with 
regard  to  style.  The  writer  seems  to  have  died  at  an  advanced 
age,  some  time  before  1200.  Like  Lamprecht,  he  borrowed  his 
story  from  a  French  original.  Of  the  Trojan  war,  by  Konrad  von 
Wiirzburg,  we  are  hardly 'disposed  to  say  more  than  that  it  con- 
tains sixty  thousand  verses.  The  ancient  heroes  here  appear  as 
knights-  of  the  middle  ages.  Christians  fight  bravely  for  the 
Greeks,  and  the  followers  of  Mohammed  are  on  the  side  of  the 
Trojans.  Konrad,  who  died  in  1287,  was  an  industrious  writer  and  * 
translator;  but  his  long  stories  betray  under  all  their  copious 
diction,  a  poverty  of  thought.  His  legends  and  short  popular 
stories  are  better,  and  his  '  Goldene  Schmiede,'  a  lyrical  poem  in 
praise  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  has  been  highly  commended,  but  it  is 
rhetorical  rather  than  poetical.  For  want  of  original  thought  and 
true  feeling,  he  seeks  everywhere  for  similes,  and  finds  too  many. 
These  decorations  are  externally  connected  with  his  theme,  and 
do  not  arise  naturally  from  its  treatment.  To  use  very  plain  words, 
they  are  stuck  upon  it.  The  author  works  like  a  mechanic  in  $i^  \ 
decorating  his  verses. 

The  Christian  or  Monastic  Legends  of  the  time  have  an  impor- 
tant historical  interest ;  but  we  find  little  of  true  poetry  in  their 
recitals  of  miracles.  The  '  Life  of  the  Virgin  Mary,'  by  Wernher, 
a  monk  of  the  twelfth  century ;  a  ^  Legend  of  the  Holy  Coat  of 
Treves,'  and  '  The  Childhood  of  Jesu '  by  Konrad  (not  to  be  iden- 
tified with  the  versifier  already  mentioned) — these  and  other 
works  of  their  class  mark  the  bare  externalism  of  the  times.  No- 
thing less  than  a  miraculous  disturbance  of  nature  seems  to  have 
been  regarded  as  having  any  religious  interest.  The  infant  Jesu 
of  Konrad's  imagination  plays  safely  with  lions  and  dragons; 
forms  clay  models  of  birds,  and  makes  them  fly  away;  goes  to 
achool  and  finds  the  schoolinaster  unable  to  teach  him^  and  entoi* 


38  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

a  heathen  temple  where  all  the  idols  immediatelj  fall  down  and 
are  hroken  to  pieces  at  his  feet.  Such  stories  as  these  were 
deplorahle  suhstitutes  for  the  sermon  preached  on  the  hill  near 
Capernaum. 

We  have  already  referred  to  the  legends  versified  hy  Konrad 
von  Wurzburg.'  His  '  Alexius '  is  a  noticeable  story  in  praise  of 
celibacy  and  asceticism.  In  his  tale  of  'Silvester'  we  find  an 
account  of  an  extraordinary  controversy.  The  Pope  argues  in 
defence  of  the  Christian  religion  against  twelve  Jews,  and  soon 
converts  eleven.  The  twelfth  remains  obstinate,  and  to  prove  his 
thesis  brings  into  the  arena  a  wild  bull !  By  a  mere  whisper  of 
one  word  belonging  to  the  creed  of  Judaism,  the  animal  is  in  a 
moment  deprived  of  life.  The  Jews  rejoice,  and  the  Christians 
are  for  a  moment  depressed ;  but  Silvester  challenges  his  opponent 
to  restore  the  bull  to  life.  In  attempting  this,  the  Jewish  theo- 
logian fails  and  the  Pope  succeeds;  whereupon  all  the  Jews 
present  embrace  the  Christian  faith  I  The  better  legend  of 
'  Barlaam  and  Josaphat '  is  supposed  to  have  been  derived  from  a 
Buddhistic  original.  It  was  translated  into  Qerman  from  a  Latin, 
source,  which  itself  was  a  translation  from  the  Greek,  and  its 
history  belongs  to  the  curiosities  of  literature.  Its  purpose,  like 
that  of  the  legend  of  Silvester,  is  to  maintain  the  supremacy  of 
the  Christian  religion ;  but  the  arguments  used  by  Barlaam  are 
superior  to  those  of  the  bull-reviving  Pope. 

Two  narrative  works  in  verse  may  be  noticed  here,  though  they 
do  not  strictly  belong  to  the  class  of  legends.  The  first — one  of 
the  best  productions  of  the  twelfth  century — is  a  poem  intended 
to  celebrate  the  virtues  of  Anno,  the  Archbishop  of  Cologne, 
who  died  in  1076,  and  was  canonised  in  1 183.  The  author  begins 
with  the  creation  of  the  world,  and  gives  a  summary  of  ancient 
histoiy  before  he  describes  the  life  of  Anno.  The  KaUerchronik 
is  an  inferior  work,  consisting  of  fragments  of  history  (so  called) 
oddly  mingled  with  legends  and  fables.  The  compiler,  who 
makes  Tarquin  reign  after  Nero,  and  perpetrates  many  similar 
blunders,  is  extremely  severe  in  his  censure  of  '  incorrect '  histori- 
cal writers.  His  chronicle  was  written,  most  probably,  about  the 
close  of  the  twelfth  century. 

In  the  fifteenth  century  we  shall  find  coarse  satire  predominant 
in  popular  literature.  The  materials  for  such  a  literature  existed 
in  the  time  of  which  we  are  now  writing.    Mockery  of  all  the 


mj  POPULAB  STORIESj  89 

pretensions  of  superior  station,  or  learning,  or  piety,  could  now 
give  a  zest  to  the  dullest  story.  Such  satire  was  sometimes  fairly 
directed  against  pride,  hypocrisy,  and  pedantry ;  but  its  success 
must  be  mainly  ascribed  to  the  fact,  that  it  appealed  to  the 
common  and  powerful  motives  of  egotism  and  envy.  It  was  '  a 
levelliug  down  *  that  delighted  the  Tulgar.  So^  in  *  Salomon  and 
Morolf ' — a  tale  reproduced  in  the  fourteenth  century  from  a  Latin 
original — the  writer  tells,  with  glee,  how  a  coarse  and  abusive 
boor,  Morolf,  made  a  fool  of  Salomon  I  The  king  to  whpm  all 
wisdom  was  given  was  so  unwise  as  to  hold  a  long  controversy 
with  the  fool.  They  differed  especially  in  their  respective  esti- 
mates of  the  virtues  of  women.  'Out  of  the  fulness  of  the 
heart  the  moUth  speaketh,'  says  Morolf;  'you  are  always  think- 
ing of  your  vrivea  and  concubines,  and  therefore  you  are  so 
eloquent  in  their  praise.'  Salomon  now  recites  his  own  fine 
chapter  from  the  Book  of  Proverbs  in  praise  of  a  virtuous  wife ; 
but  Morolf  declares  that  it  is  a  mere  fancy-sketch,  and  utters,  as  a 
contrast,  a  series  of  coarse  and  indiscriminate  libels  on  women. 
He  reminds  the  king  that,  at  the  creation,  God  looked  on  all  the 
works  that  He  had  made,  and  saw  that  they  were  good ;  but  that, 
after  woman  was  made,  the  earth  was  cursed.  At  this  juncture, 
Nathan  the  prophet  interposes,  and  prudently  advises  King  Salo- 
mon to  cease  from  further  argument  with  Morol£  The  king 
replies  by  quoting  one  of  his  own  proverbs — 'Answer  a  fool 
according  to  his  folly ' — and  then  prosecutes  the  argument.  At 
last,,  fatigued  by  the  boor's  impudence  and  pertinacity,  he  declines 
to  go  on  with  the  discussion,  and  Morolf,  of  course,  claims  the 
victory.  But  an  insurrection  of  the  king's  wives  and  concubines 
follows,  and,  in  obedience  to  their  demand,  the  fool  is  condemned 
to  be  hanged.  In  recognition  of  some  alleviations  of  royal  ennui 
afforded  by  Morolf  sbr^ad  humour,  the  king  gives  him  the  privi- 
lege of  selecting  the  tree  on  which  he  will  be  suspended.  Accord- 
ingly the  executioners  lead  the  fool  through  the  Valley  of 
Jehoshaphat,  to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  all  the  way  down  to  the 
Dead  Sea,  and  into  Arabia ;  but  nowhere  can  he  find  a  suitable 
tree  on  which  to  be  hange^  I  The  result  is,  that  the  king  pardons 
Morolf,  who  thus,  by  his  folly,  triumphs  over  the  wisdom  of 
Salomon,  and  secures  for  himself  a  place  in  mediasval  comic 
literature. 

Among  several  narratives  in  verse  which  cannot  be  easily 


40  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITJERATUBB.  [Ch. 

classified,  tbe  story  of '  Meier  Helmbrecht '  deserves  notice,  because 
it  gives  some  account  of  tbe  manners  of  tbe  common  people,  of 
■wbicb  we  find  hardly  a  trace  in  the'  romances  of  chivalry.  It  lets 
us  see  some  of  the  realities  of  life  which  existed  at  the  time  when 
the  minnesingers  lived,  and  it  prepares  us  for  some  characteristics 
o{  literature  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  century.  The  author 
of  the  tale,  Werneb  der  Garten  abb,  was  an  Austrian,  and  lived 
about  the  middle  of  theT  thirteenth  century.  He  tells  the  story  of 
the  prodigal  son  of  a  boor,  who,  urged  by  his  dislike  of  hard  work 
and  poverty,  goes  forth,  despite  the  entreaties  of  father  and 
mother,  to  seek  bis  fortune  in  dislionest  ways.  After  many 
disreputable  adventures,  he  comes  home,  so  changed  that  be  must 
give  proof  of  his  identity  before  bis  father  will  entertain  him.  He 
expresses  his  contempt  of  all  lowly  and  honest  occupations,  seeks 
to  win  admiration  by  talking  very  bad  French,  insults  his  parents, 
and  persuades  his  vain  sister  to  elope  and  marry  tbe  leader  of  a  gang 
of  thieves.  After  another  expedition  he  comes  home  again,  but  now 
blind  and  lame,  and  in  great  distress.  The  father  sternly  refuses 
to  receive  him ;  but  tbe  mother  still  supplies  the  prodigal  with 
food.  His  depredations,  however,  have  excited  such  indignation 
in  the  neighbourhood,  that  a  party  of  boors  take  the  law  into 
their  own  hands,  and,  after  a  very  short  trial,  he  is  condemned  to 
death  and  is  hanged  upon  a  tree.  All  this  is  told  in. a  simple  but 
graphic  style,  and  the  author  ends  with  an  earnest  warning  against 
contempt  of  parents. 

As  the  minnesingers  and  romancists  of  chivalry  gained  money 
by  their  songs  and  recitations,  it  was  inevitable  that  their  example 
would  be  followed  by  men  of  lower  degree ;  ballad-singers,  who 
travelled  from  one  village  to  another,  and  frequented  fairs,  where 
they  'sang  or  recited  stories  for  the  amusement  of  tbe  people. 
Between  this  class  and  the  higher  there  seem  to  have  existed 
several  gradations,  so  that  tbe  beat  of  the  wandering  singers  or 
reciters  of  ballads  might  hardly  be  distinguished,  by  their  style 
and  their  choice  of  subjects,  from  tbe  minstrels.who  were  patro- 
nised at  the  courts  of  princes.  Among  tbe  numerous  stories 
ascribed  to  one  of  tbe  travelling  ballad-singers,  named  Deb 
Stbickeb,  one  may  be  noticed,  as  it  supplied  materials  for  some 
jest-books  which  were  popular  in  later  times.  It  is  the  story  of  a 
vagabond  priest  styled  '  Parson  Amis,'  who,  for  some  reason  that 
we  cannot  guess^  is  described  as  an  EngUsbmao.    Hifl  wealth  and 


in.]  'EEYNARD  THE  FOX.'  41 

the  popularity  he  gained  hy  hospitality  had  excited  the  envy  of 
his  bishop,  who  first  endeavoured  to  eject  him  from  bis  living  by 
means  of  an  odd  kind  of  test  o5  his  clerical  qualifications.  The 
parson,  in  the  course  of  a  viva  voce  examination,  is  culled  on  (ir^t 
to  answer  the  question^  '  How  many  days  have  passed  away  since 
Adam  was  created  P  *  From  this  query  Amis  escapes  by  replying, 
'  Seven  only ;  but  repeated  many  times.*  He*i3  then  required  to 
find  the  centre  of  the  earth's  surface,  and  solves  the  problem  by 
saying,  ^  My  parish  church  is  situated  exactly  on  the  spot.'  *  The 
distance  from  earth  to  heaven  ?  '  is  the  next  question,  to  which 
.he  replies,  'It  is  just  as  far  as  my  voice  can  be  heard.  Do  you 
go  up,  my  lord,  and  I  will  stand  here  and  shout.  If  you  do  not 
hear  me,  I  forfeit  my  church.'  A  severer  test  follows.  Parson 
Amis,  it  is  said,  has  boasted  that  he  can  teach  an  ass  to  read,  and 
he  must  prove  his  assertion  true  or  lose  his  place.  '  Very  well, 
my  lord,'  he  replies  j  '  but  I  must  have  thirty  years  allowed  for 
the  task.  There  are  clever  men  who  can  hardly  master  a  science 
in  less  than  twenty  years.'  The  sequel  of  the  story  reflects  less 
credit  on  the  parson.  Having  wasted  all  his  property,  be  tries  his 
fortune  as  a  vagabond  impostor.  He  pretends  to  be  a  very  poor 
and  utterly  uneducated,  but  deeply  pious  man,  and  is  accordingly 
received  as  one  of  a  brotherhood  of  monks,  among  whom  he  soon 
acquires  a  high  reputation  for  sanctity.  An  angel  appears  in  a 
vision,  and  tells  the  monk,  who  does  not  yet  know  the  alphabet, 
that  he  must  read  the  mass  at  the  next  service.  As  soon  as  he 
has  put  on  his  priestly  robes,  he  receives  the  power  of  reading  and 
understanding  Latin.  The  fame  of  this  miracle  brings  many 
visitors  to  the  convent,  and  the  impostor  receives  many  presents. 
After  gaining  considerable  wealth  by  other  deceptions.  Amis 
retires  to  a  monastery,  devotes,  his  old  age  to  pious  exercises, 
and,  thus  prepared  for  a  better  world,  dies  as  a  venerable  abbot. 
This  conclusion  is  the  most  ridiculous  part  of  the  story.  Such 
were  the  jokes  of  the  thirteenth  century.  We  shall  find  some  of 
them  reproduced  in  the  popular  stories  of  a  later  time ;  such  as  the 
'  Parson  of  Kalenberg '  and  '  Till  Eulenspiegel.' 

We  have  referved  for  this  last  place  in  our  review  of  narrative 
poems  a  notice  of  the  tale  of  *  Beynard  the  Fox,'  becaOse  it  does 
not  belong  to  the  more  characteristic  literature  of  the  period.  It 
appears  to  have  been  neglected  by  the  admirers  of  romances 
founded  mostly  on  foreign  legends. 


42      .        OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

One  of  the  most  amusing  results  of  modern  science  is  the 
derivation  of  man  from  a  large  hairy  ape  with  canine  teeth^  the 
supposed  inhabitant  of  some  forests  of  the  Old  World.  Such  a 
transformation  appears  as  a  striking  novelty  in  science ;  but  it  is 
old  in  fable.  The  Franks,  probably  as  early  as  the  fifth  century, 
hod  fictions  in  which  bears,  wolves,  and  foxes  were  changed  into 
men,  and  the  Hindoos  had  stories  of  the  same  kind  at  a  far  earlier 
date.  The  old  Qerman  epic  of  which  the  heroes  were  animals 
had  not  originally  any  didactic  or  satirical  purport.  It  is  not 
difficult  to  understand  the  process  of  conversion  from  a  story 
having  its  interest  in  itself  into  a  fable  recommended  to  reflective 
readers  by  moral  deductions.  The  people  of  primitive  times  were, 
in  some  respects,  like  children.  For  them  there  was  an  attractive 
mystery  in  the  lives  of  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest.  Children, 
we  all  know,  will  still  listen  eagerly  to  the  adventures  of  the  wolf, 
the  bear,  and  the  fox  -,  but  will  turn  away,  grieved  that  a  good 
story  should  end  so  stupidly,  when  we  come  to  the  moraL  The 
Franks  seem  to  have  put  no  moral  purpose  into  their  old  story  of 
the  wolf,  his  friends,  and  his  foes.  Isengrim,  the  wolf,  was  their 
leading  hero ;  but  his  place  was  usurped  by  the  fox,  in  later  times, 
when  men  admired  cunning  more  than  strength.  The  first 
makers  of  the  fictions  sympathised  with  the  reverses  of  fortune  to 
which  both  men  and  animals  are  liable,  and,  as  a  means  of 
expressing  their  sympathy,  endowed  th^  beasts  of  the  dark  old 
German  forests  with  a  human  understanding  and  with  the  gift  of 
speech.  Thus  the  wolf  became  'Isengrim,'  and  the  fox  was 
styled  '  Haginohart '  (strong  through  cunning),  which  name,  first 
contracted  as  *  Reinhart,'  was  afterwards  changed  into  the  Low 
German  diminutive  of  'Heineke.'  The  lion  of  Asiatic  fables 
becomes  'Bruno'  the  bear  in  the  old  German  epic.  Latin 
versions  of  some  parts  of  the  story  were  made  by  monks  in  the 
tenth  an^  eleventh  centuries,  and  received  then,  probably,  theif 
didactic  elements.  The  oldest  Middle  High  German  version  of 
'  Reynard  the  Fox '  was  compiled  from  some  French  original  by. 
Heikbich  deb'  GLicdEZABE,  a  native  of  Alsace,  who  lived  in  the 
latter  half  of  the  twelfth  century.  A  fragment  is  all  that  remains 
of  his  work,  T^hich  was  soon  superseded  by  another  version, 
different  in  style  and  language,  but  not  in  substance.  As  we  have 
said,  the  story  does  not  seem  to  have  been  much  noticed  in 
Germany  during  the  thirteenth  century  ^  but  it  found  a  better 


m.]  'EEYNAUD  THE  FOX.'  43 

reception  al}road.  It  was  especially  popular  in  the  Netherlands^ 
•where  a  good  version  in  prose  appeared  in  1479.  An*  English 
translation  of  this  prose  story  of  *  Eemaert  de  Vos '  was  pnntt$d 
by  Caxton  in  1481.  The  improved  versified  history  of  *  Reynke 
de  Yos/  founded  on  the  prose  edition  of  1479,  and  written  in  Low 
German,  appeared  at  Lubeck  in  1498,  and  passed  through  many 
editions.  It  has  been  ascribed  to  Hermann  Barkhusen,  a  printer 
at  Kostocky  and  may  be  regarded  as  the  standard  modem  version 
of  the  epic.  This  was  translated  into  German  hexameters  by 
Goethe  in  1794.  It  has  been  said  that  he  found  in  this  occupa- 
tion a  relief  from  the  annoyance  caused  by  the  political  events 
of  the  time. 

To  return  to  the  story  of  the  Fox,  as  told  in  the  twelfth  century 
— it  is  a  tale  of  the  triumph  of  cunning,  and  has  hardly  a  trace  of 
any  didactic  purport.  Keynard,  at  a  time  when  he  is  reduced  to 
starvation,  U  received  aa'a  friend  and"  accomplice  by  Isengrim 
(the  wolf),  whose  hospitality  is  basely  abused.  On  the  other 
hand,  I&engrim  is  found  guilty  of  a  breach  of  faith  when  he 
devours,  with  solitary  greed,  a  large  quantity  of  pork  obtained  by 
Beynard's  cunning.  The  fox  takes  revenge  by  making  Isengrim 
the  victim  of  several  severe  practical  jokes,  and  the^e  end,  of 
course,  in  a  serious  quarrel.  They  are  mustering  their  respective 
parties  for  warfare,  when  their  quarrel  is  interrupted  by  a  procla- 
mation from  the  king  (the  lion)  to  the  effect  that  all  his  subjects 
must  immediately  make  their  appearance  at  his  court.  The  king, 
who  has  been  for  some  time  indisposed,  ascribes  his  disease  to  the 
displeasure  of  Heaven,  on  account  of  long  neglect  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  justice.  All  the  animals  except  Heynard — against 
whom  several  heavy  charges  are  prefen-ed— obey  the  royal  pro- 
clamation. Several  messengers,  who  are  sent  to  call  the  fox  to 
court,  are  deceived  and  maltreated  by  the  criminal.  At  last — 
persuaded  by  *Krimel'  (the  badger)— he  comes  to  court,  and,  in 
the  disguise  of  a  physician,  prescribes  for  the  king's  disease.  The 
lion,  he  says,  cannot  be  cured  except  by  wrapping  himself  in  the 
warm  skin  of  the  wolf,  who  must  be  slain  and  flayed.  By  a  series 
of  other  malicious  stratagems,  Heynard  drives  all  his  foes,  in 
terror,  from  the  court ;  afterwards,*  acts  treacherously  towards  his 
own  friends,  and,  lastly,  poisons  the  king. 

To  conclude  this  review  of  narratives  in  verse,  produced,  or 
reproduced)  during  the  time  1150-1350,  it  might  appear  from  the 


44  OUTLINES  OF  GMUttAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 


• 


order  in  which  the  seyeral  classes  of  fiction  have  been  noticed^ 
that  a  decline  took  place  from  stories  having  some  high  purport^ 
like  that  of  *  Parzival/  to  such  fictions  as  '  Meier  Helmbrecht/  or 
'  Parson  Amis/  or  '  Keinhart ; '  but,  in  fact,  no  such  decline  took 
plnce.  Popular  literature  bad  never  been  raised  to  the  moral 
level  of  Wolfram *s  be^t  passages,  or  of  the  ascetic  prose  writings 
of  the  monks.  These  were  the  higher  strata  in  the  literature  of 
the  time.  Below  them  lay  all  the  elements  of  that  more  popular 
literature  which  appeared  in  the  course  of  the  fourteenth  and 
fifteenth  centuries.  The  refinements  of  chivalry  had  no  effect  on 
the  character  of  the  people,  but  served  as  a  mere  varnish.  The 
kermons  and  writings  of  some  pious  monks  and  friars  of  the  thir- 
teenth century — such  men  as  David  of  Augsburg  and  his  pupil 
Berthold — were  far  in  advance  of  the  moral  culture  of  their  times, 
and  did  not  remain  altogether  secluded  and  barren.  They  pene- 
trated the  cells  of  many  students^  and  even  entered  the  .homes 
and  the  hearts  of  many  of  the  common  people ;  but  they  had  no 
general  and  permanent  effect  on  the  character  of  the  popular 
literature  that  followed  thAn.  No  revolution  took  place  when 
the  coarse,  satirical  literature  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  cen- 
turies appeared.  Popular  characteristics  that  had  previously 
existed  then  only  expressed  themselves  more  loudly.  The  cul- 
ture of  the  thirteenth  century  was  confined  to  certain  classes,  and 
for  these  it  was  rather  special  than  general. 


IVJ  LYBIC  AND  DIDACTIO.  VEESB.  45 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SECOND  PERIOD,    1150-1350. 

LTBIC  ASD  DIDACnC  TEfiSB — THE  lONNESINGEBS— FlkOSB. 

In  days  of  yore  how  fortunately  fared 

The  minstrel,  wandering  on  fcom  court  to  oourti 

Baronial  hall  or  royal  I 

The  life  of  a  minnesinger;  or  German  troubadour,  of  the  thirteenth 
century  seems  now  so  unreal  -  that  we  can  hardly  imagine  it  as 
erer  existing  anywhere  save  on  the  stage  of  the  opera.  A  modem 
poet  writing,  in  his  lonely  study^  lyric  poems  of  which  he  never 
sings  one  stanza^  and  sending  out  copies  of  them  to  be  read  mostly 
in  solitude  and  silence ; — this  seems  real  and  rational.  We  can 
respect  both  the  poet  and  his  readers.  But  the  mediaeval  singer^ 
trained  to  arms,  yet  devoting  himself,  in  the  prime  of  life,  to  the 
study  of  versification,  'wandering  on  from  court  to  court/  and 
there,  in  the  presence  of  ladies  and  knights,  singing  his  own 
songs  to  tunes  of  his  own  composing,  accompanying  himself,  more- 
over, on  a  large;  inelegant  kind  of  fiddle  with  only  three  strings ; 
— ^this  is  a  picture  too  fantastic  to  be  taken  for  a  portrait.  The 
minstrel-knight,  riding  along  with  a  studious,  melancholy  face^ 
and  humming  over  his  own  newly-composed  tune;  calling  on 
woods,  streams,  and  birds  to  sympathise  with  his  sorrow,  while  he 
complains  of  the  unkindness  of  an  elected  lady,  to  whom  he  has 
never  spoken  a  word ; — ^this  is  a  caricature  that  seems  to  have 
been  inyented  by  Cervantes;  but  it  was  once  a  living  reality, 
however  incredible  it  may  now  seem.  The  minnesinger  was,  at 
first,  an  imitator  of  the  French  troubadour,  and  the  travelling 
ballad-  singer  represented  the  French  jongleur.  Their  songs  and 
recitations  were  medisBval  substitutes  for  such  intellectual  ezcite- 
ments  as  are  now  supplied  by  our  newspapers  and  our  prolific 


46  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

literature  of  fictioD,  our  theatres  and  our  concerts  of  highly- 
developed  music. 

If  it  be  hard  to  understand  how  the  commonplace  verses 
found  in  many  of  the  ordinary  MmneUeder  could  ever  have  been 
tolerated  and  applauded,  we  sHould  consider  how  dull  winter 
evenings  must  have  been  in  a  German  castle  of  the  middle  ages. 
There  is  much  affectation  to  be  found  in  the  love-songs  of  the 
time,  and  some  of  the  lyrics  composed  to  hail  the  advent  of 
spring  now  seem  artificial ;  but  the  complaints  of  winter*8  deso- 
lation and  dulness  have  often  a  tone  of  real  feeling. 

The  knights  and  the  men  of  lower  degree  who  made  verses 
borrowed  at  first  both  their  themes  and  their  modes  of  versifica- 
tion from  the  French  troubadours,  but  gradually  assumed  more 
independent  and  national  characteristics.  The  old  popular  ballads 
of  the  German  people  had  fallen  in  esteem,  and  lyrical  poems  of 
.  a  far  more  artificial  character  became  fashionable.  .  A  greatly 
improved  style  of  versification  is  found  in  the  best  of  the  so- 
called  Minnelieder,  This  name  of  'love-songs'  has  been  incor- 
rectly applied  to  the  whole  of  the  lyrical  poetry  of  the  thirteenth 
century ;  for  the  minstrels  of  that  time,  though  love,  or  a  senti- 
mental respect  for  women,  was  their  favourite  theme^  sang  also  of 
the  beauty  of  the  earth  and  the  skies  in  spring  and  summer,  and 
sometimes  expressed  their  thoughts  freely  on  such  topics  as 
morals^  politics,  and  religion.  The  want  of  reality  and  common 
interest  found  in  too  many  of  their  lyrics  is*  easily  explained  by 
the  fact  that  they  were  often  invented  as  mere  exercises  in  versi- 
fication. It  was  a  rule  that  a  minnesinger  must  invent  his  own 
form  of  stanza  and  his  own  tune,  and  a  repetition  of  a  strophe  or 
a  melody  already  appropriated  was' regarded  as  a  fidlure.  Hence 
the  study  of  the  form  prevailed  over  that  of  the  purport;  just  as 
we  find,  in  inferior  music,  mere  counterpoint  taking  the  place  of 
inspiration. 

For  our  knowledge  of  these  medisaval  poets  and  their  songs  we 
are  indebted  to  several  manuscript  collections,  made  about  the 
close  of  the  period  of  which  we  are  writing,  the  most  extensive  of 
which,  though  not  the  oldest,  is  commonly  known  as  the  '  Parisian 
Manuscript.'  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  written,  by  several 
hands,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  contains  specimens  of  tho 
productions  of  one  hundred  and  forty  poets  and  versifiers,  with 
one  hundred  and'  thirty-seven  illustrations.     This  remarkable 


rV.]  LYRIC' AND  DIDACTIC  VERSE..  At 

manuscript  was  found  in  tlie  libniry  of  the  castle  of  Forsteck, 
near  the  old  convent  of  St.  Gallen,  about  ICOO,  and  soon  after- 
wards was  placed  in  the  library  of  Heidelberg.  In  some  way  not 
vet  explained  it  was  carried  off  to  Paris  about  the  dose  of  the 
Thirty  Years*  War,  and  in  1816,  when  other  literary  treasures 
were  "restored  to  Germany,  was  retained  in  the  Paris  library.  The 
whole  collection,  well  edited  by  Von  der  Hagen,  was  published  in 
1838. 

The  reader  of  this  book  cannot  but  be  impressed  at  first  with  a 
sense  of  contrast  between  the  Tariety  of  the  metres  and  the  same- 
ness of  the  thoughts.  But  a  closer  acquaintance  with  the  German 
troubadours  reveals,  in  their  best  productions^  both  a  poetical  and 
an  historical  interest.  Their  faTourite  theme  is  '  Minnef  which 
means,  in  the  tirst  place,  the  kind  remembrance  of  a  friend,  either 
living  or  deceased.  This  is  the  oldest  meaning  of  the  word,  and 
it  accords  well  with  the  purport  of  the  best  Minneliedery  which 
have  been  highly  praised  for  their  chaste  and  refined  style. 
Others,  however,  have  supplied  arguments  in  support  of  some 
unfavourable  representations  of  the  morals  of  the  ages  of  chivalry. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  both  the  praise  and  the  censure  are 
well  founded.  The  former  may  be  justified  by  reference  to  the 
best  lyrical  poems  of  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide ;  while  for  an 
example  of  the  caricature  of  Minne  and  chivalry,  there  stands  the 
autobiogrtxphy  of  Ulrich  von  Lichtenstein.  These  two  men  re- 
present, respectively,  the  lights  and  the  shadows  of  the  higher 
social  life  of  their  timesy  ^ 

Walther  von  disk  Vogelweide  is  in  merit,  though  not  in  the 
order  of  time,  the  first  of  his  class.  His  master,  or  first  model,  he 
says,  was  Keinuab  deb  Alte,  a  crusader,  who  died  about  the  close 
of  the  twelfth  century.  Walther  was  bom  of  poor  parents,  and  in 
early  life  chose  the  profession  of  a  wandering  minstrel.  Such  a 
vagabond  life  was,  in  his  times,  by  no  means  disreputable.  There 
was  then  no  home  in  his  native  land  for  men  of  intellect  or 
genius,  who  were  not  churchmen.  They  were  compelled  to  de- 
pend on  the  patronage  of  courts.  ISo  Walther  invented  new 
stanzas  and  tunes,  and  rambled  from  one  court  to  another,  and 
yet  he  was  no  servile  courtier.  He  did  not  gain  riches  by  his 
travels.  Th6  assertion  that  he  joined  one  of  the  crusades  seems 
destitute  of  proof.  In  one  of  his  poems,  apparently  written  when 
he  was  old  and  weary  of  the  world,  he  expresses  an  earnest  longing 


48  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE  [Ch. 

to  trayel  to  the  Holy  Land.  'Though  X  am  still  a  poor  ide^/ 
ho  B&jSf  *  I  should  there  gain  great  wealth.  I  mean  neither  land 
nor  gold/ but  an  eyerlasting  crown.  Might  I  but  make  a  Toyage 
thither  over  the  sea  I  Then  would  I  sing  "  'tis  well/'  and  say 
'^  alas  **  no  more.'  It  is  true  that,  in  another  poem,  he  speaks  as 
if  he  had  arrived  in  Palestine,  but  his  voyage  was,  most  probably^ 
only  imaginary.  In  his  later  years  he  resided  on  a  small  estate 
given  to  him^  as  it  appears,  by  the  emperor  Fiiedrich  11. ;  but  not- 
withstanding this  high  patronage,  the  poet  died  as  he  had  lived 
— ^poor. 

Walther's  lyrical  poems  are  distinguished  fi'om  those  of  most 
of  his  contemporaries  by  a  strong  impress  of  sincerity  and  a  wide 
range  of  thought.  When  he  hails  the  coming  of  spring  after  a 
long  winter,  he  imitates  in  the  gladness  of  his  heart  the  carols  of 
the  birds,  and  goes  on  in  melodious  verses  to  speak  of  the  beauty 
and  grace  of  the  lady  to  whom  he  dedicates  his  song,  but 
whom  he  never  names.  '  When  she  appears,'  he  says,  '  all  the 
charms  of  the  spring  are  forgotten.'  In  the  next  song  the  reader, 
to  his  surprise,  will  find  the  minstrel  changed  into  a  satirist,  who 
denounces  the  political  and  religious  corruption  of  his  times,  re- 
bukes the  Pope  for  his  worldly  ambition,  and  predicts  a  speedy 
ruin  of  the  world.  These  are  not  all  the  notes  of  the  scale  on 
which  his  songs  are  constructed.  As  a  specimen  of  his  lighter 
and  more  popular  style^  the  following  strophe  in  praise  of  German 
women  may  serve : — 

In  many  foreign  lands  I've  been, 

And  knights  and  ladies  there  have  seen  ; 

But  here  alone  I  find  my  rest — 

Old  Germany  is  still  the  best ; 

Some  other  lands  have  pleased  me  well ; 

But  here — 'tis  here  I  choose  to  dwell. 

German  men  have  virtues  rare, 

And  German  maids  are  angels  fair  I 

He  rises  to  a  higher  strain  than  this  in  other  lyrics,  where  he 
places  domestic  virtue  above  external  beauty,  and  speaks  of  Minne 
in  the  higher  interpretation  of  the  word.  '  Even  where  it  cannot 
be  returned,'  he  says, '  if  devoted  to  one  worthy  of  it,  it  ennobles 
a  man's  life.  His  aiTection  for  one  teaches  him  to  be  kind  and 
generous  towards  all.'  Walther  pleasantly  describes  himself  as  by 
no  means  good-looking,  and  censm'es  all  praise  bestowed  on  men 
for  their  merely  exterior  advantages. '  And  he  is  no  fiainatical 


I7J  LYRIC  AND  DIDACTIC  VERSE.  49 

worshipper  of  feminine  beauty,  affirming  that  it  mnj  sometimes  be 
a  thin  mask  worn  over  bad  passions.  Grace  ami  amiability  live 
longer  and  exert  a  deeper  influence  than  external  charms.  Wai- 
ting agrees  with  Reinmar  von  Zweter  in  regarding  *  wife '  as  a 
title  more  honourable  than  ^  lady.*  The  first  implies  some  duties 
fulfilled ;  the  second  is  only  an  abstract  term. 

With  regard  to  their  moral  and  social  purport,  the  verses  of  Wal- 
ther  have  a  considerable  historical  interest.  They  show  us  how 
iiisecurely  the  Church  held  the  faith  and  loyalty  of  German  men  in 
the  thirteenth  century.  Walther  is  bold  and  violent  in  his  defi- 
ance and  contempt  of  the  Pope's  usurpation  of  temporal  authority. 
Referring  in  one  place  to  a  fable  commonly  believed  in  his  time, 
he  says : — *  When  Constantine  gave  the  spear  of  temporal  power^ 
as  well  as  the  cross  and  the  crown,  to  the  see  of  Rome,  th^  angels 
in  heaven  lamented,  and  well  they  might }  for  that  power  is  now 
abused  to  annoy  the  emperor  and  to  stir  up  the  prince.«,  his  vassals, 
against  him.'  The  poet  was  as  earnest  in  dissuading  the  people 
from  contributing  money  to  support  the  Crusades.  *  Very  little  of 
it,' said  he^  'will  ever  find  its  way  into  the  Hol^  Land.  The 
Pope  is  now  filling  his  Italian  cofiTers  with  our  German  silver.' 
This  saying  seems  to  have  been  very  popular ;  for  a  tame  moralist 
who  lived  in  Walther's  time  complains  that,  by  making  sucb 
statements,  the  poet  was  perverting  the  faith  of  many  people. 
*  All  his  ^e  verses,'  the  moralist  adds,  *  will  not  atone  for  that 
bad  libel  on  Rome.'  Yet  the  author  of  it  was  quite  oithodox  in 
doctrine,  and  was  enthusiastic  in  his  zeal  for  rescuing  the  Hbly 
Sepulchre  from  the  Saracens.  In  one  of  his  best  lyrics,  already 
mentiened,  he  imagines  that  he  has  arrived  in  Palestine.  The 
whole  of  this  poem  might  serve,  if  it  could  be  fairly  translated,  as 
an  example  of  the  author's  bold  and  poetical  style;  but  we  can- 
not attempt  more  than  a  version  of  the  first  stanza : — 

Now  I  live  without  a  care ; 
For  all  IVe  longed  for  I  behold. 
The  Holy  Land  of  which  ebowheref 
Such  wonders  have  been  truly  told, 
Lies  all  spread  out  before  me  there, 
And  I  may  tread  the  path  which  (vod. 
In  human  form,  so  often  trod. 

Then  follows  a  summary  of  nearly  idl  the  articles  in  the 
Apoatlea'  Creed.    If  this  lyric  makes  it  evident  that  the  poet  waa 

B 


so  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUIIE.  [Ch. 

a  Christian  in  bis  belief,  other  verses  express,  with  equal  earnest- 
ness, his  love  of  his  native  land  and  his  grief  for  the  social  and 
political  disorders  of  his  own  times.  He  believes  that  the  world 
is  falling  a  prej  to  anarchy.  '  I  hear  the  rushing  of  the  water/ 
he  says, '  and  I  watch  the  movements  of  the  fish  that  swim  in  its 
depth.  I  explore  the  habits  of  the  creatures  of  this  world,  in  the 
orest  and  in  the  field,  from  the  beast  of  the  chase  down  to  the 
insect,  and  I  find  there  is  nowhere  any  life  that  is  not  vexed  by 
hatred  and  strife.  Warfare  is  found  everywhere,  and  yet  some 
order  is  preserved  even  among  animals ;  but  in  my  -own  native 
land,  where  the  petty  princes  are  lifting  themselves  up  against  the 
emperor,  we  are  hastening  on  to  anarchy.'  The  course  of  events 
proved  that  he  was  too  true  in  this  prediction.  Resignation  and 
dei-pair,  rather  than  any  hope  of  a  reconciliation  of  religion  with 
practical  life,  characterise  other  meditative  poems.  We  give,  in 
the  following  version,  the  purport  of  one  of  the  best  of  this 
class: — 

I  sat  one  day  upon  a  stone. 

And  meditated  long,  alone. 

While  resting  on  my  hand  my  head. 

In  silence  to  myself  I  said : — 

'  How,  in  these  days  of  care  and  strife, 

Shall  I  employ  my  fleeting  lift  ? — 

Three  precious  jewels  I  require 

To  satisfy  my  heart's  desire : — 

The  first  is  honour,  bright  and  clear, 

The  next  is  wealth,  and — ^far  more  dear — 

The  third  is  Heaven's  approving  smile.' 

Then,  after  I  had  mased  awhile, 

I  saw  that  it  was  vain  to  pine 

For  these  three  pearls  in  one  small  shrine  $  * 

To  find  within  one  heart  a  place 

For  honour,  wealth,  and  hearenly  grace ; 

For  how  can  one,  in  days  like  these. 

Heaven  and  the  world  together  please  ? 

Many  inferior  names  must  be  left  unnoticed  to  make  room  for 
those  of  two  or  three  versifiers  who,  with  regard  to  their  didactic 
tendency,  were  followers  or  associates  of  Walther,  Of  the  first  of 
these,  who  was  styled  Deb  Marnbb,  hardly  anything  is  known 
further  than  that  he  was  a  wandering  Suabian  minstrel,  who 
died  some  time  before  1287.  It  is  related  by  one  of  his  friends^ 
Kumeland,  that  Der  Marner  lived  to  an  advanced  age,  became 
stone-bliod;  and  was  murdered  when  on  a  journey.  like  Walther, 


IV.]  LYEIC  AND  DIDACTIO  VERSE.  51 

he  wafl  audacious  in  his  declamatious  against  Home ;  but  his  didac- 
tic Terses  have  but  little  poetical  interest.  Brotheb  Wernheb, 
-who  lived  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  thirteenth  century^  and  is 
described  as  '  a  pilgrim/  was  another  severe  didactic  versifier,  a 
laudator  temporis  acU,  and  a  satirist  of  the  rising  generation  of  his 
times.  Indeed  it  seems  to  have  been  necessary  to  die,  in  order  to 
gain  a  good  word  from  brother  Wemher,  for  he  praised  only  the 
deceased,  and  his  best  poems  are  elegies.  Of  Minne,  whether  in 
the  right  or  the  wrong  sense  of  the  word,  we  find  very  little  in 
his  verses.  Dr.  Johnson  would  have  liked  Wemher,  for  he  wa 
'  a  good  hater.' 

Hed^xab  von  Zwstsb — ^so  named  to  distinguish  him  from  iiie 
older  Reinmar  already  mentioned — deserves  to  be  noticed  if  only 
on  account  of  his  rational  respect  for  real  good  women  as  distin- 
guished from  the  abstract  and  imaginary  ladies  celebrated  by  so 
many  versifiers.  It  is  true  he  is  rather  prosaic  in  his  style  of 
repeating  that  the  honest,  homely,  practical  wife  holds  a  place  in 
the  world  far  higher  than  that  of  the  dreamlike  goddess  of  a 
minnesinger;  that  true  beauty  survives  the  loss  of  youth's 
charms,  and  that  a  devotion  which  has  Hved  through  trials  of 
fortitude  and  patience  is  worth  more  than  the  bare  promise  of 
youth.  '  A  true  wife,'  he  adds, '  is  as  precious  as  the  Gral  seen 
by  Parzival  in  the  castle.  She  is,  at  once,  a  woman  and  an  angel.' 
This  passage  recalls  Wordsworth's,  lines  on 

a  creature  not  too  good 
For  haman  nature's  daily  food. 
And  yet  a  spirit,  too,  and  bright 
With  something  of  an  angel  light. 

The  portrait  of  Eeinmar  given  in  the  '  Parisian  Manuscript'  is, 
of  course,  imaginary ;  but  it  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  of  the 
illustrations  given  in  that  volume.  He  sits,  meditating,  under  a 
Gothic  canopy.  On  his  right  hand  a  little  maiden,  and  at  his 
left  a  boy,  seem  to  be  earnestly  engaged  in  writing  down  the 
advice  he  has  recently  given  them.  TMs  picture  refers,  probablyi 
to  one  of  his  lyrics,  of  which  the  beginning,  considered  as  poetry, 
is  fiar  better  than  the  close.    It  opei£9  thus : — 

My  life  is  in  its  eventide. 
My  sunshine  now  has  turned  to  gray ; 
Of  youth,  still  glowing  like  the  dawn, 
I'm  musing  at  the  close  of  day. 
e2 


62  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

And  then   follows  some  Advice  to  young  people,  which  is  good 
and  true  in  its  purport,  but  prosaic  in  form. 

With  regard  to  their  moral  tendencies,  the  versifiers  of  this  time 
may  be  divided  into  two  classes; — those  who  hardly  speak  of 
morals  and  those  who  speak  mostly  in  a  severe  and  ascetic  tone. 
While  some  describe  life  as  a  festival,  others  turn  away  from  it  in 
despair.  Religion,  as  understood  by  Walther  and  others,  is  re- 
garded mostly  as  a  preparation  for  another  world.  '  This  world, 
says  Walther,  '  though  gay  with  green  and  rosy  colours  on  the 
outside,  is  black  within,  and  dark  as  death,  for  those  who  look 
beyond  the  outer  show ; '  and  many  less  powerful  expressions  of  the 
same  thought  may  be  found  in  the  lyrical  and  didactic  verse  of 
the  times.  A  remarkable  protest  against  this  mediaeval  pessimism 
is  found  in  some  lyrical  poems  ascribed  to  FbiedHich  von 
SoNKENBTTBG,  who  Hved  and  gained  fame  as  a  minstrel  before 
1268,  and  died  befbre  1287.  The  most  striking  characteristic  of 
his  verses  is  their  anti-monastic  tendency.  '  To  blame  this  fair 
world  in  which  we  live,'  he  says, '  is  to  be  guilty  of  impiety ;  for 
it  is  through  this  world  that  we  obtain  our  knowledge  of  the 
Creator,  and  its  substance  is  so  good  that  God  formed  out  of  it 
the  Blessed  Virgin  and  His  own  human  nature.'  'AH  the  saints 
who  have  lived  have  been  indebted  to  this  earth  on  which  we 
dwell  for  their  bodily  existence,'  says  the  poet ;  and  he  adds — 
with  a  reference  to  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation — '  Gpd  foims 
daily  His  own  body  out  of  the  produce  of  the  earth.  Through 
this  world  lies  our  only  way  into  heaven,  and,  at  the  resurrection, 
it  must  be  from  the  earth  that  our  new  bodies  will  arise.  The 
commandment  ''  Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother  "  forbids  a 
contempt  of  the  world  in  which  we  live ;  for  if  God  is  our  Father, 
the  world  is,  surely,  our  mother.  "  Forsake  this  evil  world  I " 
men  idly  say ;  but  it  is  simply  impossible.  Let  us  forsake  our 
fiins,  and  be  thankful  for  the  world  we  dwell  in  I '  These  are  the 
most  original  thoughts  to  be  found  in  Bonnenburg's  rhymes. 
That  he  could  be  sometimes  severe  in  his  censure  of  his  fellow- 
men,  and  that  he  had  no  respect  for  the  memory  of  the  emperor, 
we  see  in  a  dismal  elegy  on  The  great  Hohenstaufen.  The  poet 
here  expresses  a  firm  belief  that  Rome  has  for  ever  excluded  her 
enemy  from  heaven.  '  It  must  be  so,  if  all  that  the  monks  say  is 
tiue,'  he  adds,  and  he  is  not  speaking  ironically. 

The  want  of  individuality  and  other  faults  of  the  MmneUeder  are 


IV.]  LYRIC  AND  DIDACTIC  VEESE.  63 

partly  explained  when  we  consider  that  they  were  composed  to  be 
sung,  and  that  many  of  their  metres  and  stanzas  were  intricate  in 
their  structure.  As  a  proof  of  the  difficulty  of  combining  such 
conditions  with  a  free  expression  of  thought,  we  may  refer  to  one 
of  the  best  of  the  religious  Minndteder — a  hymn  in  praise  of  the 
Virgin,  which  was  written  by  ^beshabt  yon  'Sax.  He  lived  in 
the  later  half  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  was,  probably,  a 
Dominican  monk.  Of  all  the  twenty  stanzas— each  consisting  of 
twelve  lines — ^it  would  be  impossible  to  give  an  English  transla- 
tion of  one,  so  as  to  preserve  the  sense  and,  at  the  same  time,  the 
metre,  with  corresponding  rhymes.  The  structure  of  tiie  regular 
Italian  sonnet  is  less  difficult  than  that  of  the  stanza  chosen  for 
this  hymn,  which  is  one  of  the  best  and  most  musical  of  all  the 
religious  Mmndieder, 

Having  given  some  brief  notices  of  .versifiers^  ^rho,  in  some 
respects,  might  be  associated  with  Walther,  we  may  now  mention 
those  who  belonged  to  the  fantastic  school.  Of  these,  the  first  in 
rank  is  Ulrich  von  Liohtenstein,  a  knight  of  Steiermark,  who 
was  bom  about  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century.  If  half 
of  what  he  tells  of  himself  is  true,  his  adventures  surpassed  in 
absurdity  some  that  we  read  of  in  Don  Quixote.  He  was  employed 
as  page  to  a  noble  lady  when  he  was  only  twelve  years  old^  and 
soon  afterwards  made  a  resolution  of  devoting  bis  whole  life  to  her 
service,  for  which  she  never  thanked  him.  This  wasted  loyalty 
occupied  about  thirty  years  of  his  life,  and  gave  rise  to  a  'series  of 
strange  adventures  which  are  described  in  his  romance  (or  auto- 
biography), entitled  Frauendiemt.  Its  absurdity  makes  it  almost 
incredible ;  but  its  style  is  that  of  a  dry,  versified  chronicle,  and 
it  has  been  generally  accepted  as  autobiographical.  Here  he  tells 
how,  in  order  to  vindicate  the  honour  of  his  elected  lady — ^which 
had  never  been  questioned — he  rode  forth  '  disguised  as  Venus,' 
and  tilted  against  all  knights  who  would  accept  his  challenge. 
In  another  expedition,  he  represented  King  Arthur,  restored  to 
the  world  in  order  to  revive  the  institutions  of  chivalry.  The 
lady  for  whom  he  encountered  all  the  dangers  of  his  first  series  of 
adventures  despised  him,  made  him  the  butt  of  ridicule,  and,  at 
last,  subjected  him  to  a  practical  joke  so  degrading  that  he  will 
not  tell  us  what  it  was.  \  If  I  mentioned  it,'  he  says, '  every 
honest  man  would  sympathise  with  my  vexation.'  His  own  wife, 
whom  he  now  and  then  mentions  kindly,  and  with  whom  he  lived 


54  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

on  good  terms  when  he  stayed  at  home,  seems  to  have  made  no 
protest  against  his  Quixotism.  His  Dulcinea  was  a  respectable 
married  ladj  when  he  was  first  engaged  in  her  service,  and  she 
must  have  been,  at  least,  about  twelve  years  older  than  her 
champion.  Some  critics,  who  accept  Ulrich's  story  as  a  statement 
of  facts,  suppose  that  his  imagination  had  been  excited  by  a  study 
of  French  romances.  Others  find  in  his  Frauendienst  a  fair 
picture  of  manners  in  the  times  of  chivalry.  He  died  in  1277, 
when  he  was  about  seventy-six  years  old.  His  example  was 
copied,  on  a  reduced  scale,  by  Johit  Hadlaub,  of  Zurich,  who 
died  in  the  fourteenth  century  \  but  this  new  Quixote  was  too 
late  in  the  field,  and  his  performances  were  hardly  noticeable. 
Some  of  his  verses  are  imitations  of  the  style  of  Nithabt  von 
Heuknthal,  a  knight  who  lived  in  the  first  half  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  whose  songs  deserve  notice  for  the  novelty  of  their 
character. 

Nithabt  was  lively  and  fluent  in  his  versification,  and  gave 
some  interest  to  his  songs  by  introducing  comic  scenes  from  rustic 
ife  and  telling  his  own  adventures  at  village  festivals.  In  several 
instances  his  humour  is  more  to  be  commended  than  his  taste. 
Walther,  most  likely,  referred  to  Nithart's  innovations,  when  he 
spoke  of  '  low  comic  ballads  that  ought  to  be  sent  back  to  the 
boors  from  whom  they  were  borrowed.'  Nithart  generally  gives 
some  dramatic  interest  to  his  songs;  but  his  plots  have  little 
variety.  For  example,  he  begins  a  song  with  a  few  notes  on  fine 
weather,  and  then  lightly  sketches  his  rural  scenery.  It  is  May- 
time  )  the  linden-trees  are  putting  forth  their  fresh  green  leaves  \ 
the  meadows  are  golden  with  buttercups,  and  the  village  maidens 
come  out  to  dance.  A  venerable  rustic  makes  her  appearance, 
entreating  her  wilful  daughter  to  stay  at  home  and  work  in  the  ' 
garden.  The  mother  scolds  and  threatens;  bift  the  girl  trips 
away  to  join  the  dancers.  In  another  song,  the  girl  and  her 
mother  have  changed  their  parts,  and  we  have  a  livelier  comedy. 
It  is  now  the  old  dame  who,  unconscious  of  her  age  and  infirmity, 
is  seized  with  an  irresistible  passion  for  dancing.  In  vain  the  girl 
speaks  of  gray  hairs  and  a  becomiog  sobriety.  The  maiden  must 
now  stay  at  home,  and  the  old  mother  trips  away  to  the  dance. 
Nithart  had,  probably,  a  lively  style  of  singiqg  and  recitation  that 
gave  effect  to  such  songs  as  these.  We  find  their  characteristics 
in  the  lyrics  of  Gottpbibd  vok  Nifeit,  and  in  those  ascribed  to 


IV.]  LYMC  AND  DIDACTIC  VERSE.  55 

Der  Takhauseb.  In  passing,  we  may  observe,  that  the  popular 
legend  associated  with  the  name  of  Der  Tanhauser  is  far  older 
than  his  time. 

Versifiers  becaipe  more  and  more  didactic  towards  the  close  of 
the  thirteenth  century,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  writings  ascribed  to 
Heiitrich  Fbavenlob,  of  Meissen,  who  was  bom  in  1260  and 
died  in  1818.  He  was  a  man  of  some  learning,  and  liked  to  show 
it,  even  when  it  was  out  of  place.  '  Other  poets  skim  the  surface/ 
he  says;  *Ji  descend  into  the  depths.*  This  refers,  we  suppose,  to 
his  mystical  verses,  which  are  his  worst.  A  tradition  says  that, 
on  account  of  the  praise  he  bestowed  on  good  women  and  their 
domestic  virtues,  he  was  carried  to  his  g^ve  by  ladies,  and  was 
buried,  with  great  honours,  in  the  cathedral  at  Mayence; 

Frauenlob's  imitator,  and  subsequent  rival,  was  a  wandering 
smith  named  Regenbogen,  who  left  his  trade  and,  urged,  as  he 
tells  us, '  by  a  love  of  poetry ' — ^but,  more  probably,  by  a  wish  to 
avoid  hard  work — chose  the  life  of  a  ballad-singer.  The  times 
were  unfavourable,  and  he  seems  to  have  been  a  disappointed 
man.  Unlimited  competition  had  injured  the  trade  of  rhyming, 
and  the  market  value  of  verse  had  fallen  very  low.  '  My  noble 
patrons  must  soon  pay  me  better,'  says  Eegenbogen,  '  or  I  shall 
go  back  to  the  anvil.*  Another  rhymer,  Master  Sxolle,  is 
yery  emphatic  in  his  condemnation  of  the  king,  Rudolf  of  Haps- 
burg,  who  would  not  pay  money  for  verses.  'The  liing,'  says 
Master  Stolle,  'ia  an  honourable  man;  but  he  will  not  spend. 
He  is  rich,  no  doubt,  in  all  virtues ;  but  he  will'  not  scatter  his 
money.  Sing  or  say  what  you  will  in  his  praise,  this  must  be 
always  added — he  gives  us  nothing.'  It  is  a  hard,  un poetic  fact 
that  the  development  of  lyric  poetry  was  interrupted  in  the  days  of 
Kaiser  Rudolf  by  a  want  of  funds.  Walther,  a  true  poet,  com- 
plained of  his  poverty,  and  no  wonder  that  his  degenerate  fol- 
lowers, the  poetasters,  had  to  complain  more  bitterly.  Intellectual 
culture  waa  becoming  more  and  more  fesident  in  towns,  and  found 
less  and  less  patronage  in  the  castles  of  knights  and  barons  and  at 
the  courts  of  princes.  The  wandering  ballad-singers  fought 
bravely  against  the  tendency  of  their  times,  and  persevered  in 
their  old,  idle  way  of  life.  The  followers  of  Regenbog en  were  not 
easily  suppressed.  It  was  more  than  a  century  after  his  time, 
when  a  venal  rhymer,  Michael  BEHEiJf^  almost  in  despair, 
complained  thus  of  hard  times : — 


66  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURB.  [Ch. 

Witb  poverty  1  wage  a  useless  strife ; 
I  never  was  so  ragged  in  my  life  I 

About  the  same  time,  Hosenblut,  a  writer  of  heraldic  ballads, 
gave  up  business ;  in  other  words,  abandoned  his  vagabond  life 
and  his  adulation  of  noblemen,  settled  at  Niimberg,  and  there 
wrote  comic  tales,  not  always  edifying,  for  the  amusement  of  the 
people.  His  example  was  characteristic  of  the  general  tendency 
of  popular  literature  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries. 
Though  several  itinerant  poetasters  continued  their  struggle  for 
existence,  they  did  not  represent  the  popular  culture  of  their 
times,  which  found  encouragement  in  the  towns,  and  especially  in 
the  guilds  of  the  Master  Singers,  to  which  our  attention  must  soon 
be  directed. 

Here,  then,  we  say  farewell  to  the  Qerman  troubadours,  and  to 
their  attendants  and  followers,  the  wandering  ballad-singers ;  but 
before  we  go  on  to  describe  the  guilds  or  schools  of  their  well- 
meaning  but  prosaic  successors,  the  master  singers,  we  must  no- 
tice several  books  of  didactic- verse,  which  belong  to  the  thirteenth 
century  and  the  early  part  of  the  fourteenth.  In  one  of  these — 
oddly  entitled '  The  Hunner,'  and  written  by  Hugo  von  Trimberg — 
will  be  found  an  indication  of  the  general  characteristics  of  popu- 
lar literature  from  the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century  to  the  time 
of  the  Reformation. 

Hueo  VON  Trimberg  was  the  rector  of  a  school  near  Bamberg 
in  12G0-1300.  The  statement  that  he  was  a  schoolmaster  has 
been  called  in  question,  but  is  supported  by  strong  internal 
evidence.  He  has  all  the  sourness  and  severity  of  an  overworked 
and  ill-paid  rector  of  a  school,  and  to  this  he  adds  the  bitterness 
of  an  author  who  has  lost  a  considerable  part  of  his  manuscripts. 
He  wrote,  besides  *  The  Runner,'  several  books,  including  one 
entitled  Ber  Sammler  (*  The  Gatherer '),  which,  as  he  teUs  us,  was 
lost  during  his  lifetime.  Hugo  had  learning  enough  to  enable  him 
to  make  some  quotations  from  Horace,  Juvenal,  and  Seneca.  His 
book  was  at  first  planned  as  an  allegory,  but  he  afterwards  used  it 
as  he  might  have  used  a  chest  of  drawers  in  which  to  stow  away 
any  articles  he  had  not  room  for  elsewhere.  His  memory  seems 
to  have  been  injured  by  his  drudgery  in  the  school  near  Bamberg; 
for  he  often  inserts  the  same  article  twice.  He  declaims  severely 
against  all  classes  of  society,  excepting  the  peasantiy.    <  When 


rv.]  LYEIC  AND  DIDACTIC  VERSE.  S7 

the  Old  Serpent  was  cast  down  from  heaven/  says  Ilugo,  'his 
body  was  broken  into  three  pieces.  The  first — pride — was  shared 
among  the  wealthy  laity ;  the  middle — greed— became  the  pro- 
perty of  the  clergy ;  and  the  twl — envy — was  given  to  the  monks. 
If  Saint  Paul  and  Saint  Peter  were  living  now  at  Bome^  they 
would  be  sold,  if  anyone  would  bid  a  fair  price  for  them.'  Such 
sweeping  accusations  as  these  are  repeated  here  and  there,  and  the 
old  schoolmaster  apologises  by  telling  us  that  his  memory  is  'not 
as  good  as  it  was  forty  years  ago.'  Turning  to  treat  of  his  own 
profession,  he  assures  us  that  elementary  education  Is  useless  if  it 
is  not  religious,  and  he  makes  the  same  complaint  of  the  rieiog 
generation  that  we  often  hear  now : — '  There  are  no  genuine  children 
to  be  found  now,'  he  says  j  *  the  boys  are  far  too  clever,  and  kr  ow 
more  than  their  parents  and  their  teachers.  I  do  not  like  these 
little  old  men.  When  they  are  really  old,  I  expect  they  will  be 
yery  childish.'  Then  follow  some  laudations  of  the  good  old 
times  that  had  passed  away,  it  seems,  before  the  opening  of  the 
fourteenth  century !  Hugo  condemns  the  waste  of  time  in  read- 
ing such  romances  as  *  Parzival '  and  '  Tristan,' '  which  are  full  of 
lies,'  he  says,  and  he  ridicules  tournaments  and  some  other  amuse- 
ments of  chivalry.  The  most  readable  parts  of  his  book  are  the 
stories  and  fables  which  he  inserts  to  illustrate  his  doctrines.  For 
example,  to  show  that  there  is  one  law  for  the  rich  and  another 
for  the  poor  in  the  confessional,  he  tells  a  story  of  the  wolf  and 
the  fox  who  went  to  Home  to  confess  to  the  Pope.    On  their 

way, 

They  overtook  the  Ass,  and  so 

All  three  to  Rome  together  go. 

And  when  they  saw  the  city  near, 

The  Wolf  said  to  his  cousin  dear: 

*  Reynard,  my  plan  I'll  name  to  you  :— 

The  Pope,  we  know,  has  much  to  do : 

I  doubt  if  he  can  spend  his  time 

To  hear  our  catalogues  of  crime. 

Twill  spare  some  trouble  for. the  Pope 

(An4  aLso  for  ourselves,  I  hope, 

As  we  may  'scape  with  penance  less). 

If  to  each  other.we  confess : 

Let  each  describe  his  greatest'sin — 

So,  without  preface,  I'll  begin. 

To  notice  trifles  I  disdain  ; 

But  one  fact  gives  my  conscience  pain. 

Tis  this : — there  dwelt  beside  the  Rhine 

A  man  who  lived  by  feeding  swine 


68  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

He  bad  a  sow  who.  rambled  wide^ 
While  all  her  piga  with  hunger  cried. 
I  punished  her  in  such  a  way, 
That  never  more  she  went  astraf  • 
Her  little  ones,  deserted  now, 
Oft  moved  my  pity,  I'll  avow ; 
I  ended  all  their  woes  pne  night — 
•         Now  let  my  punishment  be  light ! '  ' 

'Well,'  said  the  Fox>  'your  sin  was  smn^ 
And  hardly  can  for  penance  call ; 
For  such  a  venial  transgression  • 
You've  made  amends  by  this  confession. 
And  now  I'll  do  as  yon  have  done  ; 
Of  all  my  sins  I'll  name  but  one  : 
A  man  such  noisy  fowls  would  keep, 
That  no  one  net^  his  house  could  sleep ; 
The  crowings  of  his  chanticleer 
Disturbed  the  country  far  and  near. 
Distracted  by  the  noise,  one  night 
I  went  and  stopped  his  crowing  quite. 
But  this  feat  ended  not  the  matter. 
The  hens  began  to  crow  and  chatter  ; 
And  so  (the  deed  I  slightly  rue) 
I  killed  them  and  their  chickens  too.' 

*  Well,'  said  the  Wolf,  *to  hush  that  din 
Was  surely  no  alarming  sin. 
Abstain  from  poultry  for  three  days. 
And,  if  you  like,  amend  your  ways. 
But  now  the  Ass  must  bd  confessed — 
Donkey  !  how  far  have  you  transgressed  ?  * 

*  Ah  I '  said  the  Ass  with  dismal  bray,  ^ 

*  You  know  I  have  not  much  to  say ;  r 
For  I  have  toiled  from  day  to  day,      ^ 
And  done  for  master  service  good, 

In  carrying  water,  corn,  and  wood ; 
But  once,  in  winter-time,  'tis  true, 
I  did  what  I  perhaps  must  rue  : — 
A  countryman,  to  keep  him  warm 
(We  had,  just  then,  a  snowy  storm). 
Had  put  some  straw  into  his  shoes— 
To  bite  it  I  could  not  refuse ; 
And  so  (for  hunger  was  my  law) 
I  took,  or  stole,  a  single  straw.' 

*  There !  say  no  more  I '  the  Fox  exclaimed ; 
'  For  want  of  straw  that  man  was  lamed ; 
His  feet  were  bitten  by  the  frost; 

Tis  probabler  his  life  was  lost. 
Twas  theft  and  murder. — No  reply ! 
Yom-  penance  is,  that  you  must  die.' 

The  author  concludes  bus  work  with  a  passage  that  may  disann 


IV.]  LYRIC  AND  DIDACTIC  VERSE.  S9 

criticism.  Self-knowledge  was  rare  among  tlie  satirists  of  these 
timeS)  but  Hugo  had  acquired  it.  '  I  am  like  Balaam's  ass/  he 
says, '  speaking  to  warn  sinners  of  the  errors  of  their  way.  But 
wherever  my  book  travels — in  Suabia,  Thuriugia,  Bavaria,  and 
Franken — ^I  trust  that  many  will  thank  me  for  putting  into  German 
some  good  doctrines  hitherto  little  known  in  our  land,  and  I 
entreat  my  survivors — especially  women — to  subscribe  each  a 
penny,  that  masses  may  be  said  for  the  release  of  my  soul  from 
purgatory.' 

Hugo*s  didactic  and  satirical  book  may  be  regarded  as  repre- 
senting the  purport  of  a  considerable  part  of  the  literature  of 
the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries;  but  later  satirists  were 
even  more  severe  and  indiscriminate  than  Hugo  in  their  censures. 
For  a  time,  the  men  of  reformatory  tendencies  had  the  advantage 
in  polemical  writing  until  Thomas  Mumer  arose  and  showed  them 
that  ridicule  and  bitter  invective  could  also  be  employed  with 
effect  against  Protestants.  In  these  times  the  ten  commandments 
seemed  to  have  been  virtually  reduced  to  two : — the  first,  that 
every  man  should  have  a  good  conceit  of  himself,  and  the  second 
that  he  should  libel  his  neighbours. 

Ber  Wmabecke,  written  about  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth 
century,  is  a  more  pleasing  didactic  book  than  Hugo's.  It  gives 
us  the  advice  of  an  aged  father  addressed  to  his  son,  and  its  tone 
is  both  manly  and  gentle.  A  very  short  quotation  may  serve  to 
confirm  our  statement  that,  besides  fanatical  worshippers  and 
satirists  of  women,  there  lived  some  gentlemen  in  the  thirteenth 
century.  '  My  son/  says  the  old  man,  'I  warn  you  not  to  follow 
the  example  of  those  who  rail  against  womeq.  You  may  find, 
perhaps,  even  in  high  rank  some  ladies  who  are  hardly  worthy  of 
their  titles ;  but  let  not  this  mislead  you.  To  win  the  esteem  of 
good  women  is  a  sure  way  to  success  in 'life.  In  their  society  we 
find  our  best  solace,  and  all  the  c&res  and  toils  of  our  life  are  for- 
gotten.' This  book,  Der  Winsbecke,  had  a  feminine  counterpart — 
Die  Wifubeckin — in  which  a  mother  gives  moral  instruction  to 
her  daaghter.  Her  well-intended  advice  is  inferior  to  the  old 
manls,  but  is  more  amusing.  A  far  better  didactic  book^  entitled 
Freidanlis  BescJietdenhett  ('  Freidank's  Advice '),  has  been,  without 
authority,  ascribed  to  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide.  The  unknown 
author,  or  compiler,  of  this  book,  which  includes  a  great  number  of 
proverbs,  resembles  Hugo  in  some  of  his  denunciations  of  the 


60  OUTLINES  OF  aERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

XDedifBval  Churcli ;  but  writes  on  tlie  whole  with  greater  modera- 
tion. \yith  regard  to  this  quality,  however,  *^The  Italian  Guest,' 
a  book  on  morals  and  manners  written  by  Thohasiv  Zibclake, 
in  the  early  part  of  the  thirteenth  century,  is  one  of  the  best 
didactic  works  of  its  time.  In  other  respects  it  is  not  remark- 
able. 

We  find  more  amusement  in  the  Edektettiy  a  series  of  stories 
and  fables  written  by  Ulktch  Boner,  a  monk  who  died  at  an 
advanced  age,  in  1340.  He  wrote  very  clearly  and  without  the 
slightest  attempt  to  decorate  his  verses.  'Plain  words  are  my 
fashion,'  he  says ;  '  one  of  my  stories  may  look  like  a  dry  nutshell, 
but  a  kernel  will  be  found  in  it.  You  may  gather  some  medicinal 
herbs  out  of  a  homely  little  garden  like  mine.'  Sometimes,  how- 
ever, he  gives  a  story  purely  for  its  humour,  as  when  he  tells  how 
an  incorrigible  dunce  came  home  from  the  University  of  Paris  :^- 

The  father  spread  his  daintiest  cheer 

For  friends  who  came  from  far  and  near. 

Congratulating  sire  and  son 

For  all  the  lore  at  Paris  won. 

John  drew  a  long  and  studions  fftoe 

(For  eveiy  dunce  may  learn  grimace) :   • 

He  nodded  well,  and  shook  his  head. 

And,  wisely,  very  little  said. 

Then,  when  the  dinner>time  was  o*er. 

He  stood  beside  an  open  door, 

And  studiously  beheld  the  sky — 

The  moon  was  shining,  full  and  high. 

Then  whispered  some  good  friends  t<^tber : 

'  He  knows  the  laws  of  winds  and  weather. 

Astronomy ! — he  knows  it  all. 

And  what  to-morrow  will  befaU.' 

The  father  was  a  happy  man 

Until  the  son  to  talk  began  ; 

For  opening  wide  his  month,  he  said : 

'  One  thing  doea  puzzle  my  poor  head ; 

'Tis  this : — ^the  moon  that  yon  see  there 

And  that  at  Paris  make  a  pair 

So  much  alike,  1  cannot  see 

Their  difference  in  the  least  degree  I  '— 

At  this  the  father  shook  his  head, 

And  to  his  friends,  in  anger,  said : 

*  Be  warned  by  me— don't  send  to  school 

A  boy  predestined  for  a  fooL' 


IV.]  PROSE.  61 

• 
We  have  still  to  mention  the  prose  literature  of  this  period.    It 

is  scanty,  but  interesting ;  for  it  includes  the  remarkable  sermons 
of  the  Franciscan  friar  Brother  Berthold,  and  the  speculative 
writings  of  the  so-K;alled  mystic.  Master  Eckhart.  These  were 
men  who  endeavoured,  not  to  describe  the  world  aa  it  is,  nor  to 
satirise  it,  but  to  make  it  a  new  world.  Thex  belonged,  respec- 
tively, to  the  Franciscan  and  Dominican  ordera,  founded  in  1208 
and  1215.  Brother  Berthold  was  the  best  popular  preacher,  and 
Master  Eckhart  was  the  highest  speculative  thinker  of  the  thir- 
teenth century. 

Bebtholi)  Lech,  bom  about  1220-30,  was  the  pupil  of  David 
of  Augsburg,  a  monk  of  some  learning,  who  seems  to  have  been 
proud  of  the  young  preacher  he  had  trained ;  for  the  master  some- 
times accompanied  the  scholar  in  his  travels  through  Bavaria, 
Bohemia,  and  Thuringia.  So  great  was  the  fame  of  Berthold 
among  the  common  people,  that  in  many  places  where  he  came 
no  church  was  large  enough  to  hold  his  congregation.  He  there- 
fore often  chose  some  elevated  spot  in  the  open  field,  and  there 
preached  to  assembled  thousands.  In  order  to  give  fair  play  to 
his  powerful  voice,  he  took  care  to  place  his  congregation  facing 
the  quarter  from  which  the  wind  was  blowing.  One  of  his 
chief  traits  was  his  oppositipn  to  eztemalism,  and  this  alone  was 
remarkable  at  a  time  when  such  a  man  as  Walther,  the  poet,  was 
longing  to  join  a  crusade  in  order  to  save  his  soul.  Though  Ber- 
thold was  an  orthodox  churchman  and  denounced  heresy,  he 
preached  boldly  against  trust  in  ceremonies,  pilgrimages,  and  in- 
dulgences. '  You  have  paid  a  visit  to  the  shrine  of  St.  James/  he 
says, '  and  there  you  have  seen  his  skull,  which  consists  of  dead 
bones;  but  the  better  part  of  the  saint  is  in  heaven.'  The 
chief  characteristic  of  Berthold's  preaching  was  the  vigorous 
application  of  his  doctrine  to  the  realities  of  common  life.  How- 
ever various  their  tenets  ma^r  be,  moral  teachers  may,  with  regard 
to  theb  purport,  be  all  included  in  three  classes: — they  either 
tolerate  life  as  it  is;  or  they  denounce  it;  or  they  endeavour 
to  transmute  it  into  a*  higher  life.  Berthold  belonged  to  the 
third  class,  and  his  practical  character  is  clearly  shown  in  an 
anecdote  related  of  him.  He  had  been  preaching,  on  one  occa- 
sion, when  a  notorious  sinner  cried  aloud  and  expressed  a  sudden 
resolution  to  lead  a  new  life.  The  monk  immediately  made  a 
paust  in  his  discourse,  and  gave  orders,  which  were  promptly 


62  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUEE.  [Oh. 

obeyed,  that  a  collection  should  be  made  for  the  penitent  Magda- 
lene, to  enable  her  to  start  fairly  in  a  course  of  honest  living. 
That  such  a  practice  might  be  abused,  and  lead  to  conversions 
more  numerous  than  genuine^  is  only  too  obvious. 

Berthold  was  a  man  of  superior  imaginative  eloquence.  There 
are  some  passages  in  the  best  of  his  Oand-sermons/  as  he  called 
them,  which  reimnd  us  of  Jeremy  Taylor's  style;  the  follow- 
ing passage,  for  example  :— '  What  can  a  child  unborn  know,'  says 
the  preacher,  '  of  the  light  and  glory  of  this  world ;  of  the  bright 
sun,  the  sparkling  stars,  the  various  colours  and  the  radiance  of 
gems ;  or  of  the  splendid  array  of  silk  and  gold  made  by  man's 
skill ;  or  of  the  melodies  of  birds  and  the  sounds  of  instruments 
of  music  ,*  or  of  the  various  hues  of  flowers,  and  of  so  many  other 
splendours  P  As  little  can  we  .know  truly  of  the  unspeakable 
pleasures  of  Paradise.'  Other  equally  fervid  passages  are  to  be 
found  in  the  sei-m^n  on  Heaven,  where  the  light  and  warmth  of 
the  preacher's  imagination  play  mostly  upon  the  clouds,  and 
strike  out  resplendent  colours  there ;  while  in  his  practical  teach- 
ing his  doctrine  descends  with  fertilising  power,  and  penetrates 
the  soil  of  daily  life.  His  words  are  seldom  abstract ;  he  clothes 
his  thoughts  in  familiar  imagery,  and  repeats  them  again  and 
again,  as  if  resolved  to  make  his  dullest  hearer  understand. 

_  » 

Berthold*s  errors  arose  from  his  z^al  for  the  welfare  of  the 
poorer  classes  of  society.  It  is  easier  to  retire  from  the  world 
than  to  mend  it ;  but  Berthold,  though  a  monk,  would  ^ot  sur- 
render the  world  to  the  power  of  evil.  In  his  endeavour 
to  reconcile  his  two  beliefs— that  the  world  was  made  to  be  a 
home  for  happy  men,  and  that  it  has  been  greatly  depraved — 
he  was  led  to  some  bold  conclusions.  The  first  was  an  assertion 
of  the  absolute  freedom  of  man's  will^  to  which  he  ascribed  the 
origin  of  all  existing  evils.  Again,  his  endeavour  to  reconcile  the 
benevolent  purpose  of  the  Creator  with  the  wrongs  and  the 
sufferings  of  society  led  Berthold,  though  he  knew  nothing  of 
Communism  as  a  theory,  to  declaim  in  favour  of  something  very 
much  like  it.  He  says  nothing  of  the  necessity  of  physical 
sufferings,  in  order  to  lead  to  man's  higher  moral  education,  and 
then  to  more  favourable  circumstances;  he  knows  nothing  of 
such  doctrines  as  modem  economists  teach ;  but  when  he  sees  the 
sufferings  of  the  poor  he  declaims  thus : — ^  There  is  enough  in  the 
world  for  all  of  you,  and  if  any  sufier  want  it  is  because  others 


/ 


IV.]  PKOSE.  C3 

hare  too  mudu  God  made  this  world  as  complete  as  He  made 
the  hearens.  As  there  is  no  star  wanting  there,  so  there  is  no- 
thing for  man's  nse  left  wanting  here.  There  is  enough  meat, 
and  bread,  and  wine,  and  beer,  fish  and  fowl,  and  game  of  all  kinds 
for  bU  of  us  ;  and  if  you  say  it  has  been  unfairly  distributed,  I 
reply  that  some  one  has  robbed  you  of  your  proper  share.'  In 
concluding  one  part  of  the  sermon  from  which  we  quote,  the 
preacher  declares  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  belongs  to  the  poor, 
and  that  the  rich  must  buy  it  from  the  poor — ^in  other  words,  must 
merit  it  by  a  liberal  distribution  of  alms.  Such  teaching  as  this 
was,  no  doubt,  one  of  the  causes  of  Berthold*s  popularity,  and  its 
influence  survived  his  times.  We  find  its  echoes  in  the  popular 
literature  of  the  following  two  hundred  years.  So  strong  was 
the  general  democratic  tendency  of  these  two  centuries,  that 
k  was  owing  to  Luther  and  his  friends  that  the  Reformation, 
when  it  did  come,  was  not  accompanied  by  a  sweeping 
social  revolution.  Neither  Berthold  nor  the  Mystics  ever 
dreamed  of  such  a  result;  but  it  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  to 
them  the  extreme  left  party  of  the  Heformation  were  greatly 
indebted  for  their  opinions  and  tendencies.  From  the  highest 
truth  to  error  there  may  be  but  a  step.  '  Men  are  created  to  be 
free,'  said  Berthold,  'and  the  gifts  of  Providence  ought  to  be 
fairly  shared.'  So  thought  John  of  Leyden.  The  good  friar 
never  dreamed  of  having  such  a  follower,  and  if  he  could  have 
known  him,  would  have  been  ashamed  of  him ;  but  there  was, 
nevertheless,  an  historical  connection  between  these  two  men. 

Apart  from  some  tedious  repetitions,  the  stjle  of  Berthold's 
sermons  deserves  high  praise.  He  says  two  or  three  things 
distinctly,  and  then  makes  a  full  stop ;  thus  avoiding  the  compli- 
cations of  which  the  German  language  is  capable.  The  same 
clearness  is  found  in  the  writings  of  Tauler,  though  he  is  called  a 
mystic,,  and  his  master,  Eckhart,  though  his  writings  may  seem 
abstruse,  on  account  of  the  thoughts  they  are  intended  to  express, 
is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  best  of  all  the  writers  of  Middle  High 
German  prose.  We  cannot  pretend  to  give  here  a  full  and 
systematic  account  of  his  speculative  views,  which  belong  to  the 
history  of  philosophy,  and  should  be  given  in  their  proper  connec- 
tion ;  but  his  general  tendency  as  a  religious  teacher  may  be  here 
noticed. 

Mastxb  Hsikrich  Ecxeabi  was  bom  about  the  middle  of 'the 


64  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

thirteenth  century,  and  died  a  year  (or  perhaps  two  years)  before 
13^9,  when  he  was  excommunicated  by  the  Pope,  John  XXIL 
The  bull  states  that  Eckhart,  some  short  time  before  his  death, 
recanted  his  errors  j  but  this  is  clearly  proved  to  be  false  by  the  ' 
documents  of  the  trial  for  heresy,  dated  early  in  1327,  and  still 
existing.  They  show  that '  the  father  of  German  speculation ' — 
80  Eckhart  has  been  justly  styled — did  not  contradict  himself. 
Instead  of  recanting,  he  made  a  protest  against  a  judgment  founded 
on  garbled  extracts  from  his  writings.  His  accuser,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Cologne,  in  fact,  knew  and  cared  little  about  any  abstruse 
speculations.  But  Eckhart  had  made  himself  enemies  by  his  zeal 
for  the  reformation  of  monasteries;  and  hence  arose  a  rather 
yague  charge  of  iiaving  taught  something  like  what  is  now  called 
'pantheism.'  J£  we  take  this  word  in  its  plain,  etymological 
meaning,  it  may  be  safely  asserted  that  Eckhart  did  not  tea6}i 
pantheism  ;  that  is,  he  did  not  teach  that  the  two  concepts  of  the 
universe  and  of  its  Cause  are  identical.  But  he  would  not  rest 
contented  with  an  imaginatiye  view  of  the  relation  of  the  Creator 
with  the  created.  According  to  the  common  representation,  each 
excludes  the  other,  and,  therefore,  each  must  be  finite.  As  this 
involves  a  contradiction,  Eckhart  was  tempted  to  think  further/ 
and  thus  made  himself  liable  to  an  accusation  so  conveniently 
vague  that  it  has  been  preferred  against  the  author  of  the  JBTui- 
gavad-Gitaj  the  Persian  mystic  Jellaleddin-Rumi,  the  great 
churchman  and  schoolman  St.  Thomas  Aquinas,  Bruno,  Bohme, 
Spinoza,  Schelling,  Hegel,  Goethe,  and  Schefer.  It  might  be  as 
fairly  preferred  against  the  English  poets  Popei,  and  Wordsworth. 
The  address  of  the  latter  to  One  who  includes  all  T>thsrs  '.  as  the 
sea  includes  her  waves '  is  as  pantheistic  as  anything  to  be  found 
in  Eckhart ;  and  Pope's  lines — 

All  are  but  parts  of  one  stupendous  Whole, 
Whose  body  nature  is,  and  God  the  soul — 

have  been  accepted  by  Brahmins  as  a  fair  summary  of  their  own 
creed.  If  Eckhart  must,  however,  be  called  a  pantheist,  his 
teaching  was  spiritual.  The  general  tendency  of  his  speculation 
was  to  translate  into  unitive  thought  the  symbols  supplied  by  tbe 
senses.  For*  example,  he  construes  those  words  in  the  Creed, 
'  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  the  Father/  as  meaning  identity 
with  the  Divine  Being.    '  Heaven/  he  tells  us,  ^  is  not  a  place. 


IV.]  PROSE.  65 

and  eternity  is  not  an  extension  of  time,  howeyer  long,  but  is  the 
substance  of  which  all  the  things  of  time  and  sense  are  but 
shade wSy  and  includes,  note,  all  the  past  and  all  the  future/  Such 
speculation  seems  abstruse ;  but  for  Eckhart  the  spiritual  and  the 
practical  were  one  and  the  same,  and  he  therefore  expresses  his 
most  abstruse  thoughts  with  evident  earnest  feeling.  'The 
spiritual  man/  he  says,  '  lives  and  moves  in  time,  but  has  his  true 
being  in  eternity.'  Some  of  the  characteristics  of  such  a  man  are 
these :  '  he  is  not  careful  to  defend  himself  against  accusations ; 
'but  leaves  truth  to  speak  for  itself;  he  desires  nothing  except 
that  God*s  will  may  be  done ;  he  is  not  excited  by  the  things  of 
time  and  sense,  and  does  not  depend  on  them  for  his  joy ;  for  this 
is  in  himself,  and  is  one  with  his  own  being.  God  bring  us  all 
into  this  rest — ^now  1 '  says  Master  Eckhart,  at  the  close  of  one  of 
his  homilies.  Hb  religious  purport  will  appear  more  plainly 
when  the  writings  of  his  pupil,  Tauler,  are  noticed.  In  concluding 
this  sketch  of  the  first  of  German  mystics  we  may  briefly  mention 
another  charge  preferred  against  him  and  his.  followers.  It  has 
been  asserted  that  their  teaching*  was  to  the  effect,  'tknt  man 
mighty  without  divine  aid,  liberate  himself  from  sin,  simply  by  his 
own  wilL'  It  is  obvious  that  this  charge  contradicts  that  cf 
*  pantheism ;  *  for,  if  a  man  has  no  distinct  existence,  how  can  kis 
will  have  it  F 


66  OUTLINES  OF  GEBHAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ce. 


•  CHAPTER  V. 

THIRD  PERIOD.     1360-1626. 

THE  LATER  MIDDLB    AGES —TOT7N.S— GUILDS — THE    IfASTBB   SnYGBBS-^ 
NARRATIYB  AlfD  LTBICAL  TEBSB — THE  DBAXA — FBOSE  FICTION. 

The  literature  of  the  romantic  mediaeval  time  was  hardly  in  its 
fall  bloom  when  it  began  to  decay.  The  thirteenth  century 
opened  with  the  songs  of  Walther  and  closed  with  the  'wise 
saws  *  of  the  dry  and  severe  Bamberg  schoolmaster.  His  prosaic 
book,  Der  JRennery  marks  the  close  of  the  period  we  have  called 
'romantic*  This  word,  as  used  by  German  literary  historians, 
has  a  far  wider  meaning  than  the  popular  one,  and  is  employed, 
not  only  to  designate  the  literature  of  the  romance  languages,  and 
to  mark  some  characteristics  of  mediaeval  fiction,  but  also  to 
express  the  general  tone  and  tendency  of  mediaeval,  as  distinct 
from  both  ancient  and  from  modem  literature.  That  tone  and 
tendency  was  nothing  less  than  the  utterance  of  a  profound  dis- 
content— an  alienation  of  the  mind  from  th^  world  in  which  it 
lived,  a  discontent  that  led  the  monk  to  the  seclusion  of  his  cell, 
the  romancist  to  seek  his  themes  in  foreign  or  imaginary  sources, 
and  the  mystic  to  seek  rest  in  self-abnegation  and  retirement  from 
the  world.  Contrast  the  sublime  complainings  of '  the  great 
mediaeval  poet,  Dante,  with  the  general  tone  of  contentment  and 
cheerfulness  that  pervades  the  ^  Odyssey  \ — though  its  hero  is  the 
man  '  who  suffered  many  hardships ' — and  a  clear  view  will  be 
obtained  of  the  opposite  characteristics  expressed  by  the  words 
antique  and  romantic  Ulysses,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  troubles, 
never  despairs.  Mind  and  body ;  '  man  and  his  dwelling-place ; ' 
his  aspirations  and  his  fate;  'religion  and  common  life;' — all 
these  were,  on  the  whole,  well  united  in  ancient  times ;  but  in  the 
middle  ages  this  harmony  was  broken,  and  it  has  never  yet  been 


V.l  THE  LATER  MIDDLE  AGES.  67 

restored.  We  shall  not  find  it  in  the  times  now  to  be  described, 
extending  from  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  centuiy  to  the  opening 
of  the  sixteenth. 

The  period  1850-1525,  though  one  of  the  highest  interest  in 
general  history,  and  marked  by  events  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  mankind,  such  as  the  discovery  of  the  New  World,  the  invention 
of  printing,  the  revival  of  learning,  and  the  foun'ding  of  universi* 
ties,  was  a  very  dark  time  for  German  literature,  especially  for 
poetry.  Yet  it  is  only  by  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
growth  of  opinions  during  1350-1525,  as  expressed  in  the  popular 
literature,  that  it  is  possible  fully  to  understand  the  great  fact  of  the 
Beformation.  If  we  imagine  that,  from  the  days  of  the  Crusades 
down  to  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  a  mediaeval  Church 
existed,  enjoying  all  the  repose  of  faith  and  obedience,  and  pro- 
tected externally  by  a  powerful  monarchy,  and  that^  then,  a 
courageous  monk,  offended  by  a  hawker  of  indulgences,  suddenly 
stepped  out  of  his  cell  and,  by  hLs  declamation,  shook  in  pieces 
the  Church  and  the  empire,  we  have  brought  before  our  imagina- 
tion a  very  striking  spectacle — nay,  a  miracle; — but  no  such 
miracle  ever  took  place.  Luther  was  a  great  and  an  energetic 
man ;  but  he  did  not  do  that.  He  rather  checked  and  controlled 
than  created  the  movement  that  is  for  ever  associated  with  his 
mime.  Long  before  his  time,  the  eloquent  monk  Berth  old  had 
gained  popularity  by  the  promulgation  of  democratic  ddctrines, 
afterwards  widely  spread  by  means  of  songs  and  satires ;  espe- 
cially by  irreverent  stories  in  which  the  clergy — die  Pfaffen — 
were  the  butts  of  ridicule.  After  making  large  allowance  for 
popular  exaggerations,  a  mass  of  evidence  still  remains  of  the 
gross  degeneracy  of  the  clergy  in  these  times.  The  monks  of  St. 
Gallen,  formerly  noted  for  their  devotion  to  useful  leorniug,  were 
now  so  illiterate  that  they  could  not  write  their  own  names. 
The  names  of  Tauleb  and  Geiler  are  so  prominent  as  to  indicate 
that,  in  their  day,  few  faithful  teachers  of  the  people  were  left  in 
the  Church.  Geiler,  in  spite  of  his  eccentricities,  was  a  good  re- 
presentative of  a  popular  preacher ;  but  the  teaching  of  men  of 
Tauler's  school  was  suited  rather  to  form  a  select  brotherhood  of 
thoughtful  and  religious  men  than  to  supply  any  basis  for  a 
reformation  of  the  Church.  Their  doctrine  was  too  spiritual  and 
reBned  for  the  common  people,  and  was  liable  to  be  misundei-stood. 
What  the  people  could  most  easily  accept  and  apply  was  its 

f2  • 


68  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATtJEB.  [Ch. 

negative  purport — that  'the  kingdom  of  heaven '  was  to  be  found 
in  no  external  church*  or  hierarchy.  The  positive  doctrine,  that 
an  internal  renovation  must  supply  the  true  basis  for  external 
reformation,  was  less  understood.  Miinzer,  one  of  the  leaders  in 
the  Peasants'  War,  had  studied  Tauler's  writings ;  but  knew  little 
of  them  beyond  their  negative  purport  It  is  hardly  necessary  to 
addf  that  we  are  not  speaking  here  of  the  intrinsic  merits  of  their 
doctrine,  but  of  its  practical  tendency,  as  commonly  understood  by 
the  people. 

While  the  old  faith  was  thus  disturbed,  and  the  Church  was 
losing  the  affections  of  the  people,  the  affairs  of  the  State  were  in 
a  condition  not  less  unsatisfactory.  The  efforts  of  the  H(/henstau- 
fens  to  maintain  the  unwieldy  empire  founded  by  Karl  the  Great 
left  Germany  a  prey  to  be  contended  for  by  egoistic  princes  and 
their  parties.  Kudolf  of  Habsburg  failed  to  restore  union,  partly 
because  he  was  too  much  bent  on  the  establishment  of  his  own 
house,  and  partly  because  what  he  did  well  was  undone  by  the 
errors  of  his  followers.  The  attempts  of  Heinrich  VIL  and  of 
Ludwig  der  Baier  to  extend  their  dominion  in  Italy  led  to  new 
quarrels  with  the  popes,  and  were  followed  by  bans,  interdicts  and 
anarchy.  It  might  seem  impossible  that  any  lord  of  misrule 
could  make  worse  the  disorder  existing  in  the  empire  under  the 
nominal  sway  of  Wenzel ;  but  a  still  more  unworthy  monarch 
appeared  in  Friedrich  III.,  whose  cowardice  frustrated  all  the 
reformatory  nfeasures  of  the  Council  of  Basel.  He  was  sum- 
moned to  appear,  as  a  traitor,  before  the  Fehmgericht  of  West- 
phalia, which  had  partly  usurped  his  imperial  authority.  It  is 
enough  to  say  of  the  times  when  Wenzel  and  Friedrich  III.  were 
only  shadows  of  rulers,  that  the  spread  of  disorder  almost  war- 
ranted the  existence  of  that  secret  and  dreaded  Westphalian 
tribunal,  for  its  reign  of  terror  was  better  than  anarchy. 

Meanwhile,  as  the  imperial  power  grew  weaker,  the  people  were 
not  gaining  liberty,  except  in  those  towns  which  were  protected 
by  powerful  commercial  guilds.  Beyond  these  boundaries  knights, 
barons,  and  princes  exercised  authority  on  Hob  Boy's  simple 

plan- 
That  they  should  take  who  have  the  power, 
And  they  should  keep  who  can. 

Old  ballads  tell  us  of  '  Epple  von  Geilingen,'  and  other  titled 
Dick  Turpins;  -^ho  lived  '  by  the  saddle,'  as  they  said-^otherwise, 


v.]  TOWNS— GUILDS.  69 

88  moss-troopers — and,  in  several  instances;  closed  tbeir  adventures 
on  the  '  Kabenstein ' — a  place  set  apart  for  the  execution  of 
thieves  and  murderers. 

External  nature  seemed  to  sympathise  with  the  disorder  of 
the  times.  The  oriental  plague  prevailed  in  eeveral  parts  of 
Germany,  and  its  terrors  induced  in  many  minds  a  tendency  to 
gloomy  fanaticism.  'Burnings  of  the  Jews  in  all  the  towns 
along  the  Rhine/  as  an  old  chronicler  says,  '  took  place  because 
it  was  believed  that  the  JewS  had  caused  the  pestilence.'  To  call 
the  people  to  repentance,- '  the  Brothers  of  the  Scourge '  travelled 
from  towi^  to  tbwn,  marching  in  dismal  processions,  and  armed 
with  whips  and  scourges,  with  which  they  publicly  lashed  them- 
selves. Forebodings  of  a  coming  time  of  still  greater  tribulation, 
or  of  the  end  of  the  world,  prevailed  generally.  One  old  chroni- 
cler's book  abounds  in  memoranda  of  earthquakes,  and  BraitKt,  the 
satirist,  died  under  a  cloud  of  melancholy,  because  he  believed 
that  the  world  would  soon  be  drowned.  Literature  was,  on  the 
whole,  in  good  keeping  with  the  realities  of  the  times.  It  was 
not  indeed  all  gloomy  ',  but  when  not  utterly  dull  and  prosaic,  it 
was  for  the  most  part  either  coarse  and  licentious,  or  bitterly 
censorious. 

Such  culture  as  existed  among  the  people  was,  like  the  com- 
merce of  the  times,  mostly  confined  to  the  larger  towns,  where 
guilds  were  the  chief  institutions  of  civilisation.  These  unions  of 
townsmen  arose  from  the  necessity  of  protecting  life  and  property 
against  the  violence  of  the  feudal  nobility.  Commerce  could  not 
exist  without  the  co-operation  of  men  for  mutual  defence.  At 
first  the  guild  was  identical  with  the  whole  body  of  the  towns- 
people ;  but  when  greatef  distinctions  of  wealth  prevailed  in  tlie 
towns,  the  rich  members  of  the  whole  guild  became  aristocratic 
and  exclusive,  and  hence  arose  the  several '  trade  companies.' 

The  merchant  learned  to  despise  the  retail  trader,  and  the 
leather-seller  looked  down  upon  the  shoemaker.  '  No  bakers,  nor 
dealers  in  hides,  nor  costermongers  who  bawl  in  the  streets,  nor 
men  with  soiled  hands  and  blue  nails  admitted  to  the  G  uild  j ' — 
such  were  some  of  the  new  regulations,  and  their  exclusivenes 
led  to  the  institution  of  new  guilds  for  the  several  trades  which 
they  represented.  Then  followed  contests  between  the  new  com- 
panies and  the  oligarchies  of  the  old  guilds.  Such  warfare  was 
waged  with  bitter  animosity  in  several  towns,  and  sometimes  led 


70  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.         *  [Ctt. 

to  sangruinaiy  results.  Ten  members  of  a  working  men's  guild 
were  burned  alive  at  Magdeburg  in  1301,  and,  after  a  battle  be- 
tween the  Weavers*  Company  and  the  oligarchy  of  Cologne,  in 
1371,  thirty- three  of  the  associated  weavers  were  put  to  death, 
and  about  two  thousand — ^including  wives  and  children — were 
banished.  Such  facts  are  enough  to  show  that  the  tendency  of 
society  to  divide  itself  into  castes  was  strong  in  these  times — a 
circumstance  that  helps  to  explain  the  institution  of  the  schools 
or  guilds  of  the  Master  Singers. 

The  foundation  of  these  schools  has,  without  any  authority 
beyond  that  of  probability,  been  ascribed  to  Heinrich  F^atjex^ob, 
already  noticed  as  a  writer  of  lyric  and  didactic  verse ;  but  it  is 
enough  to  say  that  they  arose  in  several  towns  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  when  the  institution  of  companies  more  or  less  co- 
operative was  the  fashion  of  the  times. 

The  Gerpaan  troubadours  and  romancists  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury had  left  unnoticed  the  lives  and  the  interests  of  the  common 
people,  and  in  the  fourteenth  century  the  people  took  their  revenge 
for  that  neglect  by  instituting  a  literature  all  their  own.  Versi- 
fication, out  of  fashion  at  the  courts  of  princes,  was  now  patronised 
by  ropemakers,  smiths,  bakers,  potters,  weavers,  wheelwrights  and 
tailors ; — all  had  their  songs,  celebrating  their  several  mysteries. 
As  Gervinus  says,  '  There  was  hardly  any  class  in  society  that 
did  not  meddle  with  versification.  .  .  .  Doctors  prescribed  in 
Latin  and  German  verse ;  astrology  and  physiognomy  were  ex- 
plained in  rhymes,  and  the  topographies  and  histories  of  several 
towns  were  written  in  verse.*  But  the  art  of  rhyming  was  not 
altogether  entrusted  to  the  care  of  individuals.  It  had  its  co- 
operative stores  and  its  co-operative  productive  unions.  Special 
guilds,  or  schools,  for  the  composition  and  recitation  of  verse  were 
established  at  Mayence,  Ulm,  Niimberg,  and  several  other  towns ; 
the  old  '  Singing  School '  at  Niimberg  was  maintained  until  1770, 
and  an  institution  of  the  same  kind  was  closed  at  Ulm  as  lately  as 
in  1830. 

The  motives  of  the  versifying  weavers  at  Ulm  might  screen 
their  homely  manufactures  from  ridicule.  Their  purport  was 
generally  moral  or  religious,  and  they  afforded,  at  least,  a  harmless 
recreation.  The  shuttle  would  fly  more  lightly,  while  the  weaver 
hummed  over  his  verses  and  his  new  tune,  prepared  for  the  next 
meeting  of  the  Singing  School    Sunday  comes,  and  a  board  sua* 


v.]  THE  MASTER  SINGERS.  71 

pended  in  the  church  announces  that  'the  Master  Singers  x^ill 
hold  a  meeting  in  their  school  in  the  evening/  or  in  the  church  at 
the  close  of  the  afternoon  service.  Sometimes,  on  festive  occa- 
sions, the  memhers  and  their  friends  are  assembled  in  the  town- 
hall,  where  all  the  proceedings  are  conducted  with  a  strict  atten- 
tion to  order.  In  the  most  prominent  place  three  umpires  are 
seated,  And  in  a  large  oaken  chest,  placed  beside  the  chief  umpire, 
the  properties  of  the  society  are  deposited.  These  consist  of  gold 
and  silver  chains,  which  have  been  worn  by  successful  candidates 
for  honours.  The  chief  umpire  opens  the  meeting  by  reciting 
some  passages — 6ften  taken*  froA  the  Bible — which  have  been 
selected  as  themes  for  verses.  Several  compositions  are  recited, 
or  sung,  and  faults  are  noticed.  Perhaps  a  plagiarism  is  suspected, 
and  hereupon  reference  is  made  to  a  ponderous  volume  containing 
the  notation  of  tunes  that  have  already  gained  prizes.  At  last, 
after  several  compositions  have  been  tried,  one  candidate  is  de- 
clared victorious.  Thereupon  the  president  opens  the  oaken 
chest,  takes  out  a  chaplet,  which  he  places  on  the  head  of  the 
victor,  while  round  his  neck  he  hangs  a  silver  chain  with  a  jewel 
suspended.  These  articles  still  remain  the  property  of  the  club,  but 
the  master  singer  is  allowed  to  wear  them  publicly  on  certain 
festival  days.  *  Gloriously  arrayed  in  these  decorations,  he  will  go 
to  recite  his  verses  at  a  meeting  in  some  neighbouring  town,  and 
vanquish  all  the  versifying  weavers  or  shoemakers  there  assembled. 
At  the  close  of  the  meeting  the  best  verses  are  copied  in  a  largo 
volume,  which  is  the  common  property  of  the  club.  Thus  many 
productions  of  the  master  singers  have  been  preserved  to  modem 
times ;  though  few  have  proved  worth  all  the  care  bestowed  on 
them. 

Of  PoETBT,  in  the  higher  sense  of  the  wprd,  there  is  in  this 
period  little  or  nothing  deserving  attention.  The  most  important 
writings  of  the  time  are  those  containing  evidences  of  popular 
culture,  or  want  of  culture.  We  shall,  therefore,  pass  briefly  over 
some  inferior  productions  in  epic  and  lyric  verse,  which  connect 
this  period  with  the  preceding,  and  shall  chiefly  pay  attention  to 
the  didactic  and  satirical  writings  in  verse  and  prose,  which, 
iiowever  rude,  are  characteristic  of  the  times. 

In  speaking  thus  of  several  inferior  productions  in  epic  verse, 
we  do  not  include  with  them  the  story  of  the  Fox — the  best 
imaginative  work  of  the  fifteenth  century.    In  the  form  in  which 


72  OUTLINES  OF  QKRMAN  LITERATURE.        '   [Ch. 

it  now  reappears,  it  is  a  tree  reproduction,  in  Low  German  verse^ 
of  the  Reynard  in  prose  which  appeared  in  the  Netherlands  in 
1479.  The  story  found  in  the  German  version  of  the  twelfth 
century,  already  noticed  (in  chap,  iii.),  is  greatly  extended  and  im- 
proved  in  the  versified  Reynke  de  Vos,  printed  at  Liiheck  in  1498, 
and,  with  some  prohability,  ascribed  to  He2U£ANN  Bahkhusen, 
a  printer  at  Rostock. 

In  one  point  of  view,  the  versifier  of  this  Low  German  story  of 
Reynard  may  be  described  as  the  best  writer  of  his  time ;  for  he 
does  not  fall  into  the  dull  didactic  style  of  writers  who  can  do 
nothing  better  than  compile  maxii]^s.  He  tells  the  story  well, 
though  with  a  greater  fulhess  of  detail  than  is  necessary,  and  he 
does  not  stop  to  insert  sermons.  Without  doubt,  he  intended 
some  parts  of  the  tale  to  have,  a  satirical  application ;  but  he  does 
not  interrupt  the  narrative  to  intrude  his  own  reflections  on  his 
readers.  One  of  the  best  passages  of  the  story  is  that  which 
describes  t)iftFox  in  his  most  desperate  circumstances-^-condenmed 
to  death,  forsaken  by  all  his  friends,  and  led  to  the  gallows.  No- 
thing can  be  more  reasonable  than  his  last  request  If  he  has 
not  lived  well,  he  wishes  to  die  in  an  edifying  manner,  and  there- 
fore begs  that  he  may  be  allowed  to  make  a  public  confession  and 
to  warn  transgressors.  The  king  grants  this  request  ^  Reynard 
mounts  the  scafibld^  and  thus  confesses  hi»  sins  :— 

I  see  not  one  in  all  this  throng 

To  whom  I  have  not  done  some  wrong ; 

And  now,  upon  the  scaffold  here, 

I  wish  to  make  my  conscience  clear ; 

I  will  not  even  one  sin  conceal : — 

When  but  a  cub  I  learned  to  steal. 

How  well  I  recollect  the  day 

When  first  I  saw  young  lambs  at  play, 

And  carried  off  my  earliest  prey  I 

From  little  crimes  I  passed  to  great ; 

The  wolf  soon  chose  me  as  his  mate  ; 

'  Our  compact  * — so  he  said — *  was  fated. 

Because  our  families  were  related.' 

I  cannot  tell  our  murders  all — 

He  killed  the  great,  and  I  the  small ; 

But  this,  with  death  so  near,  I'll  say, 

He  never  gave  me  half  the  prey. 

If  ever  we  had  slain  a  calf. 

Poor  Reynard  never  had  the  half. 

Wolf  and  his  wife,  with  hunger  keen. 

Too  often  left  the  bones  quite  deant 


VJ  NARRATIVE  AND  LYRICAL  VERSE.  78 

And,  even  if  we  had  killed  an  ox^ 
There  was  but  little  for  the  fox. 
Tet  hanger  hove  I  never  known ; 
I  had  a  pantry  of  my  own. 
Of  treasure  each  a  plenteous  store 
Twould  serve  me  for  my  life  and  more.' 
'  A  treasure  I    Ha !    What  I '  said  the  king ; 
« Where  is  it  ? '— « 'Twas  a  wicked  thing ; 
Twas  stolen ! '  said  the  fox,  *  and  yet 
That  sin  I  never  shall  regret. 
There  was  a  plot— with  death  so  near, 
I'll  tell  it  all ;  for  now  'tis  clear 
That,  to  bring  foes  to  tribulation,  ^ 

I*d  never  risk  my  souFs  salvations- 
There  was  a  plot  against  the  throne, 
And,  with  the  deepest  shame,  Til  own, 
'  Of  all  the  traitors,  that  the  first 

Was  my  own  father,  and  the  worst ; 

Out  of  his  treasure  he  would  pay 

The  villains  hired  the  king  to  slay, 

And,  when  I  stole  it,  loss  of  pelf 

So  vexed  him  that  he  hanged  himself.'  ^ 

These  dark  ioainuations  serve  their  purpose;  the  queen^  of 
course^  longs  to  know  all  about  that  treasure,  and  to  possess  it ; 
while  the  king  wishes  to  fiave  full  information  of  the  plot  against 
his  own  life.  Accordingly,  Reynaid  is  reprieved,  and,  in  meek 
teiumph  over  his  foes,  comes  down  from  the  scaffold.  Then  follows 
another  long  series  of  impositions,  slanders,  and  falsehoods,  all 
associated  with  admirable  self-possession  and  audacity,  and  mostly 
successful.  As  an  ill-used  subject,  Reynard  first  gains  royal 
sympathy,  and  then  becomes  eminently  pious.  Though  he  has 
well  defended  himself  from  the  charges  preferred  against  him  by 
his  foes — the  wolf,  the  bear,  and  others — his  conscience  has  be- 
come 80  tender  that  he  must  go  to  Home,  to  receive,  at  head- 
quarters, absolution*  for  the  peccadilloes  of  his  youth.  On  his 
return  from  this  "pilgrimage  he  is  revered  as  a  saint,  and,  as  a 
reward  for  all  his  cunning,  is  elevated  to  the  rank  of  Lord  High 
Chancellor  and  Privy  Seal  of  the  realm  governed  by  King 
Nobel. 

When  compared  "with  the  story  of  the  Fox,  the  epic  poem  of 
Theuerdanky  though  planned  by  the  Emperor  MAxncrLiAN  I. — ^the 
last  representative  of  the  age  of  chivalry  —  is  hardly  worth 
naming.  The  emperor  suggested  a  plot  founded  on  some  adven- 
ture of  his  ow.li  youthr-.especially  his  courtship  of  Maria  of. 


74  OXJXLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEEATUBB.    '      [Ch. 

Burgundy — and  gave  it,  to  be  turned  into  an  epic,  to  one  of  his 
secretaries,  who,  after  doing  his  work  badly,  handed  it  over,  to 
be  made  worse,  to  another  secretary,  who  added  some  moral 
reflections.  The  result  of  the  labours  of  the  trio— including  an 
emperor — ^was  a  very  dull  production ',  but  it  was  well  printed, 
and  illustrated  with  one  hundred  and  eighteen  woodcuts,  at 
Niimberg,  in  1517.  The  second  edition  (1619)  is  good ;  but  the 
third  (1637)  is  inferior,  especially  in  the  woodcuts.  HaVing 
failed  ia  verse,  the  emperor  wrote  a  sketch  of  his  own  life  in 
prose,  aad  gave  it,  to  be  extended  and  edited,  to  the  secretary  who 
had  been  first  employed  upon  Theuerdank.  This  prose  work, 
entitled  Weisskunig,  has  some  biographical  value,  especially  in  the 
second  part^  which  gives  an  account  of  the  emperor^s  studies  for 
the  improvement  of  artillery.  Das  Hddenhuch^  founded  on  old 
national  legends  and  printed  about  the  close  of  the  fifteenth 
century  was  far  better  than  Das  Neue  Heldefibuch,  another  work 
of  the  same  class,  compiled  about  1472.  These  attempts  to  revive 
old  heathen  legends  were  both  more  tolerable  than  a  half-epic, 
half-allegorical  work  entitled  Die  Morin  by  HsBMAifiryoK  Saoh- 
B£VH£iM ,  who  died  in  1468.  He  attempts  to  tell  a  romantic  tale 
of  <Frau  Venus,'  the  knight  <  Tanhauser,Vand  <  faithful  Eckart,' 
and,  when  he  finds  his  powers  of  imagination  failing,  turns  to  dry 
didactic  writing,  and  fills  up  his  book  with  commonplace  declam- 
ations against  princes,  wealthy  merchants,  and  the  clergy. 

Among  several  writers  of  historical  poems  two  or  three  deserve 
notice,  because  they  described  the  events  of  their  own  times. 
Michael  Beheim,  for  example,  who  died  in  1474,  wrote  in  his 
Buck  von  den  Wienem  an  account  of  the  insurrection  of  the  people 
of  Vienna  against  their  servile  emperor,  Friedrich  III.,  who  was 
mainly  responsible  for  the  chaotic  condition  of  both  the  Church 
and  the  State  in  his  time.  It  has  been  saitf  that  Beheim's  ao* 
count  of  the  insurrection  'has  a  considerable  *  historical  value,' 
because  he  was  an  eye-witness  of  what  he  teUs;  but  he  was 
utterly  venal,  and  wrote  what  he  thought  would  please  the 
emperor  who  paid  him. 

Another  heraldic  versifier,  Psteb  deb  Sitcheitwibt,  describes, 
in  his  historical  verses  entitled  Ehrenredeny  many  of  the  events  of 
his  time,  especially  the  battle  of  Sempach,  which  is  more  popularly 
narrated  in  a  ballad  by  Halb  Sitteb,  who  seems  to  have  been  one 
of  the  GO(abataiUB  against  Austria.    HaTiB  tells  how  Aisold  von 


VJ  NAURATIVE  AND  LYRICAL  VERSB.  76 

Winkelried  made  a  gap  in  the  cloae  ranks  of  the  Aoatrian  noblefly 
who  were  anned  with  spears,  and  fought  on  foot : — 

Then  *  Ha ! '  said  Winkelried,  *  my  brethren,  every  one, 
111  make  for  you  a  road,  and  thus  it  shall  be  done ; 
,  If  Switzerland  hath  need,  a  Switzer's  heart  shall  bleed ; 
To  break  their  dose  array,  I  give  my  life  to-day.' 

The  fbemen*8  spears  he  grasped  with  both  his  arms,  and  preased, 
^  All  in  a  bundle  bounds  their  points,  upon  his  breast ; 
And  80  he  made  a  way  for  the  Switzers  on  that  day, 
As  he  had  truly  spoken ;  for  the  Austrian  ranks  were  broken. 

Several  ballads  by  Veit  Webeb — especially  one  on  '  the  Battle 
of  Murten'— and  some  war  songs,  telling  of  the  deeds  of  the 
Ditmarsen  men  of  West  Holstein,  are  noticeable  for  their  connec- 
tion with  history.  Der  Hitter  von  Staufenberg  is  an  anonymous 
narrative  poem  of  the  fifteenth  century  which  we  cannot  classify. 
It  tells  the  story  of  a  knight,  whose  biide^Iected  for  him  by  fate, 
is  a  fairy.  This  strange  poem  seems  to  have  suggested  some  of 
the  incidents  in  the  well-known  story  of '  Undine.' 

The  few  attempts  made  to  continue  the  lyric  stnuns  of  a  bygone 
time  may  be  briefly  noticed.  One  of  the  latest  of  the  knights 
who  wrote  Minndieder  was  Oswald  von  WoIiKSNSTEIN,  bom  in 
1367,  a  military  adventurer,  who  wandered  in  England,  Scotland, 
Bohemia,  Palestine,  and  Spain.  His  verses  give  many  incidents 
of  his  life,  and  are  not  without  merit  with  regard  to  their  style. 
The  same  praise  may  be  given  to  some  lyrical  poems  ascribed  to 
MusoATBLUT,  who  seems  to  have  lived  early  in  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tory.  The  didactic  and  satirical  temper  of  his  times  is  expressed 
in  one  of  his  productions,  oddly  entitled,  'A  Great  Lie.'  It 
celebrates  th^  patriotism  of  princes,  the  equity  of  judges,  and  the 
piety  of  the  clergy.  The  characteristic  discontent  of  the  period 
finds  another  form  of  expression  in  the  religious  lyrics  of  Heinsigh 
voir  LAUfSZTBEBO.  Thej  saj  nothing  of  the  heroism  of  endurance 
nor  of  peace  sought  in  the  fulfilment  of  duty  \  but  utter  a  rest- 
less longing  to  retire  from  the  world.  '  I  long  to  be  at  home ;  to 
be  at  home  in  heaven  I '  says  Heinrich  in  some  verses  nearly  as 
popular  in  their  tone  as  the  hymns  used  in  modem  Sunday 
schools. 

For  heartiness  and  vigour  of  expression  several  popular  songs 
by  unknown  authors  must  be  commended,  and  the  same  praise 
bcilongB  to  the  Bacchanalian  songs  of  Hans  BosENBLtJz.     Our 


76  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITEEATXJBE.  [Ch. 

statement,  that  yersification  was  a  popular  amusement  in  those 
days,  might  be  confirmed  by  reference  to  numerous  proverbsi 
riddles,  and  tricks  in  Terse — such,  for  instance,  as  reserving  all  the 
sense  of  an  epigram  for  the  last  line.  There  prevailed,  in  fieict,  a 
mania  for  making  rhymes.  When  Berthold,  the  popular  preacher, 
"wished  to  impress  a  few  words  on  the  memories  of  his  hearers,  he 
called  for  a  versifier : — ^  Now  if  there  is  any  ballad-maker  in  my 
congregation,  let  him  mark  these  words,  and  put  them  into  a  song, 
and  let  it  be  short  and  sweet,  and  ring  so  prettily  that  the  little 
children  may  learn  it  and  sing  it'  This  fashion  of  rhyming 
increased  in  inverse  ratio  with  the  growth  of  true  poetry. 

The  dramatic  productions  of  the  later  middle  ages  have  con- 
siderable interest  in  the  history  of  culture,  but  are  destitute  of 
literary  merit.  It  may  be  assumed  that  the  earlier  religious  plays, 
vmtten  in  Latin,  were  introduced  by  monks  as  substitutes  for 
some  rude  dramatic  pej^rmances  of  heathen  origin.  The  events 
celebrated  by  the  ChuTCQ  at  Christmas,  on  Good  Friday,  and  at 
Easter,  supplied  the  materials  for  dramas  of  very  simple  oonstruc- 
lion,  which  were  recited  rather  than  acted  in  churches.  But 
when  the  vernacular  tongue  had  been  adopted  in  these  sacred  pia3rSy 
and  popular  taste  had  insisted  on  the  intrusion  of  comic  interludes  in 
them,  their  performance  in  churches  was  forbidden.  The  people 
were  then  amused  with  theatrical  representations  given,  on  a 
larger  scale,  in  the  open  air.  A  stage  with  nine  stories  was 
erected  at  Metz  in  1427.  Properties  were  collected  without  any 
regard  for  correct  costume.  A  burgomaster's  robe  might  fit  either 
Judas  or  Gabriel.  The  clergy  performed  in  the  serious  parts 
of  the  play,  and  the  comic  interludes  were  supplied  by  the  laity 
and  by  professional  buffoons.  The  mixture  of  sacred  and  comic 
subjects  was  often  offensive  in  the  highest  degree  ,*  for  the  most 
solemn  events  recorded  in  the  Gospels  were  associated  ivith  gro- 
tesque circumstances.  The  characters  introduced  in  these  plays 
became  more  and  more  numerous;  and  the  performance  of  a 
drama  sometimes  occupied  two  or  three  days.  These  amusej^ients 
were  continued  after  the  Beformation.  A  grand  spectacle-play, 
in  fifty  acts,  performed  in  1671,  required  the  services  of  }one 
hundred  players  and  five  hundred  pantomimists ;  and  in  1JS93, 
Johann  Brummer  put  into  a  dramatic  form  the  greater  part  of/  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles.  In  one  of  the  oldest  Easter  plays-/'  the 
lonspruck  Play '  of  the  fourteenth  century — ^the  serious  papts  of 


VJ  THE  DRAMA.  77 

the  plot  are  relieyed  by  the  appearance  of  the  clown^ '  Rubin/  and 
seyeral  other  comic  characters,  who  perform  an  absurd  interlude 
as  far  out  of  place  as  possible.  The  'Alsfelder  Passion  Play/ 
of  the  fifteenth  century,  is,  in  some  respects,  worse  than  the  above- 
named;  chiefly  on  account  of  a  gross  misrepresentation  of  the 
character  of  '  Maria  Magdalena,'  who  here  comes  upon  the  stage 
dancing  among  a  crowd  of  demons.  In  another  play — Frau 
JuUeriy  written,  most  probably,  in  the  fifteenth  centuiy — ^the  plot 
is  founded  on  the  ridiculous  fable  of  the  feminine  pope,  Johanna. 
We  may  notice,  in  passing,  that  the  '  Oberammergau  Passion 
Play/  performed  by  Bavarian  peasants  in  1871,  cannot  be  traced 
farther  back  than  1654.  It  is  throughout  serious,  and  free  from 
the  objectionable  traits  of  the  mediesval  dramas  we  have  noticed. 
Its  performance — ^repeated  with  intervals  of  ten  years — ^has  had,  it 
is  said,  a  good  moral  effect  on  the  people  of  Oberammergau. 
The  Fastnacktsspiele — *  Shrove  Tuesd^  Plays  * — were  rude  in 
,  «every  sense  of  the  word,  and  were  mostiy  performed  by  journey- 
men and.  apprentices,  who  went  from  house  to  house  and  levied 
contributions.  It  seems  hardly  credible  that  such  dialogues  as 
are  found  in  these  pieces  could  have  been  patronised  by  assembled 
families,  including  both  sons  and  daughters  \  but  there  can  be  no 
doubt  of  the  fact.  Many  pieces  begin  alike :  a  herald  begs  the 
attention  of  the  audience  \  then  follow  some  indecorous  dialogues, 
intended  to  be  amusing,  and  concluding  with  an  apology,  urgently 
required.  Two  of  the  most  fertile  inventors  of  such  dialogues 
were  Hosenblut  and  FoLz,  master  singers  at  Niimberg.  The 
offences  that  would  have  justified  their  expulsion  from  the  singing* 
school  of  that  old  town  were  repeated  in  their  plays,  which 
sometimes  ended  with  an  apology  like  this : — 

If  aagbt  offend  you  in  our  rhyme, 
Remember,  'tis  a  meny  time, 
And  Lent  is  quickly  coming  on, 
When  all  our  frolics  will  be  done  t 

To  give  a  notion  of  the  simplicity  of  the  plot  in  a  Shrove 
Tuesday  play,  we  may  take  one  of  the  most  decorous  specimens — 
'  The  Emperor  and  the  Abbot.'  Here  is  the  old  story  of  which 
the  people  never  grew  weary — the  triumph  of  native  wit  over 
learning.  The  emperor  proposes  three  hard  questions  to  the 
abbot,  who,  of  course,  cannot  answer  them,  and,  to  avoid  the 
penalty  attached  to  his  failure,  consults  a  miller  noted  for  his 


78  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEB.  [Ch. 

ready  wit,  as  well  as  for  stealing  com.  The  miller  treats  the 
churchman's  dulness  with  contempt,  puts  on  the  abbot's  robes, 
and;  in  the  emperor's  presence,  solves  the  three  problems.  He  is, 
of  course,  installed  in  the  place  of  the  incapable  abbot,  and, 
though  a  boor  now  comes  forward  and  accuses  the  miller  of  theft, 
this  is  not  regarded  as  a  disqualification  for  his  new  office. 
Another  boor  contradicts  the  accuser,  and  a  fray  seems  likely  to 
follow,  when  a  third  boor  steps  forward  and  proposes  a  rustic 
dance,  with  which  the  performance  concludes.  One  of  Rosenbliit's 
pieces  contains  unsparing  satire  on  the  upper  classes.  The  Grand 
Sultan  comes  from  Constantinople  to  Numberg,  in  order  to 
reprove  the  clergy  and  the  nobility  for  their  vices.  There  is  in 
this  piece  a  noticeable  reference  to  the  independence  of  the  guild 
of  Niimberg.  The  representatives  of  the  pope,  the  emperor,  and 
the  princes  rail  against '  the  great  Turk '  for  his  interference  with 
their  affairs  of  government,  and  threaten  to  put  him  to  death ; 
but  the  Biirgermeister  of  Niimberg  steps  boldly  forward  and 
declares  that,  in  spite  of  the  pope,  the  emperor,  and  the  princes, 
'  the  great  Turk,'  who  has  told  them  the  truth,  shall  be  defended 
by  the  citizens^  and  shall  have  safe  conduct  back  to  his  own 
dominions. 

In  Prose  Fiction  some  translations  by  Niklas  von  "Wyle,  who 
was  a  schoolmaster  at  Zurich  in  1445-47,  and  others  by  Heinrich 
Steinhowel,  a  surgeon  at  Ulm,  and  Albrecht  i?on  Eyb,  a  canon  at 
iBamberg  (1420-83),  deserve  notice  as  contributions  to  an  im- 
proved style  of  prose.  But  the  most  interesting  prose  transla- 
tions of  the  time  are  those  of  '  ITie  Seven  Wise  Masters '  and 
tlic  Gesta  Romanorum,  The  first  of  these  favourite  books  of 
medieeval  times  had  an  oriental  ori«2in,  and  was  probably  intro- 
duced into  Europe  during  the  Crusades..  A  Latin  version  was 
written  about  1184,  and  was  followed  by  translations  i;i  several 
European  languages.  The  authorship  of  the  Gesta  Romanontm, 
at  first  written  in  mediaeval  Latin,  has  been,  with  some  probability, 
ascribed  to  a  monk  named  Helinand,  who  died  in  1227.  The 
book,  which  consists  of  fables,  anecdotes,  and  passa^res  from 
Roman  history  (so  called) — all  given  in  a  mediaeval  style — sup- 
plied light  reading  for  monks,  and  was  afterwards  used  as  a  fund 
of  materials  for  fabulists,  novelists,  and  such  versifiers  as  Hans 
Sachs.  The  German  translation  was  first  printed  at  Augsburg  in 
1498. 


VL]  SATIKES.  79 


CHAPTER  VI- 
THIRD  PERIOD.      1850-1525. 

84TIBB8— OOmC  8T0BXBS — BBAKBT^OKLBB — IIVBIIXB. 

m 

Satirb  was  the  chief  characteristic  of  these  times,  and  found 
utterance  in  many  popular  stories,  in  verse  and  prose.  Though 
these  are  often  verj  low  and  coarse,  hoth  in  style  and  in  choice  of 
subjects,  they  are  parts  of  the  literature  of  the  fifteenth  century 
too  prominent  to  be  left  unnoticed.  A  fair  description  of  them  is 
attended,  however,  with  some  difficulty,  as  Sebashait  Bsanbt 
indicates,  in  his  '  Ship  of  Fools,'  where  he  speaks  of  some  popular 
jest-books  and  satires  of  his  time : — '  Frivolity  and  coarseness  are 
canonised,  in  our  day,'  he  says;  'he  who  can  make  the  most 
unseemly  jest — especially  on  some  serious  subject — ^is  esteemed 
the  greatest  genius..  This  low  taste  of  the  people  may  be  partly 
ascribed  to  the  neglect  of  our  so-called  ^se  meo,  or  scholars,  who 
study  everything,  and  are  ready  to  teach  anything,  save  good 
morals  for  the  people.  So  learning  itself  is  made  to  appear 
ridiculous,  and,  while  our  scholars  are  studying  necromancy, 
astrology,  alchemy,  and  other  quackeries,  the  multitude  are  left  in 
gross  ignorance,  and  laugh  at  everything  that  is  wise  and  good. 
And  this  great  invention  of  printing  does  not  mend  the  matter ; 
for  the  printers  care  not  what  kind  of  books  they  send  into  the 
world,  but  circulate  fortune-telling  pamphlets,  scandalous  satires, 
and  anything  that  will  seU.'  The  chief  objects  of  the  satires  here 
referred  to  are  the  clergy  and  the  nobility;  but  the  wealthy 
townsmen  are  not  spared.  The  peasantry  are  mostly  allowed  to 
escape  easily,  and  the  boor,  who  is  often  the  hero  of  a  comic 
story,  though  illiterate,  and  not  without  a  tunt»  of  the  rogue  in 
his  character,  is  described  as  haying  such  a  rude  force  of  native 
wit  that  he  can  refute  the  dergy,  answer  questions  proposed  by 


80  OUTLINES  OF  OERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

doctors  and  Jawyers,  and  reduce  a  biflhop  to  silence.  The  coming 
times  of  the  Peasants'  War  were  foreshadowed  in  this  comic 
literature,  which  retained  its  popularity  in  the  sixteenth  century. 
One  collection  of  comic  and  satirical  stories^  edited  by  a  monk, 
JoHAiffiTES  Pavli,  in  1522,  soon  passed  through  thirty  editions. 
If  a  monk  was  as  free  as  we  find  Brother  Pauli,  in  his  censures  of 
the  clergy  and  the  nobility,  the  reader  may  guess  what  the  greater 
freedom  of  the  people  must  have  been ;  and  if  Dr.  Geileb,  the 
celebrated  preacher  of  Strassburg,  could  introduce  in  a  sermon  a 
popular  tale  of  a  boor  reproving  a  bishop,  it  is  easy  to  surmise 
what  might  be  said  out  of  church.  The  prevailing  temper  of  the 
day  found  expression  in  free  and  coarse  satires,  marked  by 
contempt  of  authority,  ridicule  of  the  pretensions  of  the  educated 
classes,  and  a  mockery  of  things  represented  as  sacred. 

It  has  already  been  shown  how,  in  the  story  of '  Parson  Amis,' 
a  beneficed  clergyman  is  represented  as  gcdning  his  livelihood  by 
a  series  of  impositions.  In  a  later  story  of  the  same  class,  ^  the 
Parson  of  Kalenberg '  sells  bad  wine  at  a  high  price,  and  attracts 
customers  by  announcing  that,  on  a  certain  day,  he  will  take  a 
flight  from  the  top  of  the  steeple.  The  peasantry  are  collected  in 
great  numbers  to  witness  the  feat  It  is  a  hot  day,  and  as  the 
pastor  keeps  his  flock  long  waiting,  while  he  is  trimming  his 
pinions,  they  are  glad  tQ  drink  his  sour  wine  and  to  pay  for  it. 
At  last,  he  asks  if  anyone  present  can  give  evidence  of  such  a 
flight  having  been  safely  toade,  and  when  they  say  '  No,'  he  tells 
them  he  will  not  attempt  it.  In  another  popular  tale,  the  parish 
priest  is  described  as  so  fatuous,  that  he  cannot  remember  the 
order  of  the  days  of  the  week.  To  help  his  memory,  he  makes, 
on  every  week-day,  one  birch-broom,  and,  by  placing  his  six 
brooms  in  a  row  and  frequently  counting  them,  he  knows  when 
Sunday  comes,  and  prepares  to  read  mass.  A  wag  steals  away 
the  broom  that  should  mark  Saturday,  and  on  Sunday  morning 
the  priest  is  found  making  another  broom  instead  of  going  to 
church.  In  a  story  quoted  by  Qeiler  in  a  sermon,  we  find  a 
bishop  riding  out  at  the  head  of  forty  mounted  attendants.  He 
sees  a  boor  standing  still,  staring,  as  in  great  amazement,  and 
reproves  him  for  this  rudeness.  ^  I  would  have  you  understand,' 
says  the  rich  churchman,  Hhat  I  am  not  only  a  bishop,  but  also  a 
temporal  prince.  If  you  wish  to  see  -me  as  a  bishop,  you  must 
come  to  church.'   '  But^'  says  the  boor, '  when  the  enemy  at  last  runs 


VI.]  SATIBES-COMIC  STORIES.  81 

away  with  the  prince,  where  will  the  bishop  be  found  P '  In 
another  story  we  are  introduced  to  a  priest  whose  morals  are  bad, 
though  he  is  a  good  preacher.  He  is  grieved  to  find  that  his 
flock  obstinately  follow  his  example,  rather  than  his  advice,  and 
thus  exposes  their  error.  On  a  certain  day,  after  long  wet  weather, 
he  leads  a  procession  through  the  village,  and  walks  resolutely 
through  the  deepest  mire  he  can  find.  The  people  refuse  to  tread 
in  his  footsteps.  ^That  is  right,'  says  the  priest;  'attend  in 
future  to  what  I  say  in  my  sermons,  and  never  notice  what  I  do.' 
These  are  tame  examples  of  some  of  the  satires  levelled  against 
the  clergy,  but,  for  the  obvious  reasons  which  Bbahdt  points  out, 
the  choice  of  specimens  is  limited. 

There  are  many  stories  more  objectionable  than  the  following : 
— 'The  wife  of  a  nobleman  was  deeply  grieved  on  account  of  the 
death  of  a  pet  spaniel,  and  begged  that  its  remains  might  be 
buried  in  consecrated  soiL  Her  husband  bribed  the  parish  priest, 
and  the  burial  took  place  according  to  the  lady's  wish.  When 
the  bishop  heard  of  it,  he  sent  for  the  o£fending  priest,  and  told 
him  he  must  be  excommunicated.  ''  But  I  received  a  large  bribe," 
aud  the  priest,  in  order  to  excuse  what  he  had  done.  *'  How 
much  ?  "  asked  the  bishop ;  and  the  offender  answered,  "  Four 
hundred  florins."  ''Four  hundred  florins  1 "  the  bishop  exclaimed, 
in  great  amazement;  "and  did  you  read  the  full  service?" 
"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  priest,  now  hoping  to  escape.  "  Then 
I  muiit  fine  you,"  said  the  bishop,  "  for  that  omission,  after  re- 
ceiving such  a  liberal  fee.  Hand  over  to  me  the  four  hundred 
florins." ' 

Popular  satires  on  the  rapacity  of  the  aristocracy  are  mostly  too 
earnest  to  be  humorous.  In  one,  for  example,  we  read  of  a  youth 
foand  guilty  of  liighway  robbery  and  hurried  away  to  be  executed. 
Some  noblemen,  passing  by,  are  disposed  to  intercede  for  his  life, 
but  when  they  are  told  the  crime  of  which  he  has  been  guilty 
they,  have  no  mercy  for  him.  They  care  nothing  for  his  crime  in 
itself;  but '  he  l^as  usurped,'  they  say,  '  one  of  the  chief  privileges 
of  the  nobility.'  'A  fine  nobility  that!'  says  Brother  Pauli; 
'  thank  God  we  have  nothing  like  it  now '  (1522).  But  this  thanks- 
giving must  have  been  ironical ;  for,  as  late  as  about  1555,  old 
Gotz  von  Berlichingen  wrote  an  account  of  his  own  forays  against 
travelling  merchants,  describing  his  robberies  as  if  they  had  been 
the  innocent  pastimes  of  his  childhood. 

■    o 


82  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUER  [Ch. 

A  loDg  ballad  of  the  fifteenth  centurj;  already  referred  to, 
describes  the  justice  and  kindness'  of  many  knights  and  barons  in 
their  conduct  towards  their  inferiors;  but,  at  the  close,  the 
writer  says  that  he  has  been  trying  to  utter  '  the  greatest  possible 
untruth.'  Several  satires  directed  against  wealthy  townspeople, 
their  guilds  and  their  growing  liberties,  may  be  briefly  parsed 
over.  In  one  instance,  at  least,  the  rude  invectives  of  the  peasants 
were  well  retorted  by  a  townsman,  Hbinrich  Wittenweiler, 
who  lived  in  the  fifteenth  century.  In  a  long  versified  story, 
entitled  '  The  Biugi'  he  gives,  in  a  mock-heroic  style,  the  details 
of  a  boor's  wedding,  and  merry-making,  which  are  followed  by  a 
fray.  The  coarse  humour  of  some  parts  of  this  story  proves  that 
the  author  was  very  well  matched  against  the  boors;  though  in 
other  passages  he  writes  with  sobriety  and  good  taste.  His 
purport,  he  tells  us,  was  didactic ;  but  he  waa  compelled  to  deco- 
rate his  story  with  grotesque  features  in  order  to  suit  the  popular 
taste.  That  the  people  relished  satire  and  humour,  however  gross, 
was  sufficiently  proved  by  the  success  of  many  stories  invented  or 
versified  by  such  writers  as  Hans  Rosenblttt  and  Hans  Folz, 
both  members  of  the  Master  Singers*  School  at  Nurnberg  in  the 
fifteenth  century.  If  all  their  jocose  stories  were  recited  in  that 
school,  it  was  not  very  strictly  conducted.  We  refer  to  them  as 
fair  representatives  of  many  comic  narratives  of  domestic  immo- 
rality. The  following  anecdote,  intended  to  show  the  folly  of 
extreme  kindness,  is  one  of  the  least  objectionable  of  this  class : — 
^  A  bad  wife,  who  had  often  been  brought  before  the  magistrates, 
was  at  last  sentenced  to  stand  in  the  pillory.  Her  husband 
begged  that  he  might  be  allowed  to  suffer  the  punishment  instead 
of  his  wife,  and  his  request  was  granted  when  he  had  bribed  the 
magistrates.  He  stood  in  the  pillory  for  some  hours,  and  endured 
all  the  disgrace  which  the  woman  had  merited.  Some  short  time 
afterwards,  when  his  wife  had  returned  to  her  evil  ways,  and  he 
found  it  impossible  to  live  in  peace  with  her,  he  reproached  her, 
and  told  her  how  often  she  had  brought  disgrace  on  his  household. 
'  It  may  be  all  true,'  said  the  wife,  when  several  of  her  sins  had 
been  named,  '  but  I  can  say  at  least  one  good  thing  for  myself : 
I  have  never  stood  in  the  pillory  I '  A  passing  notice  must  be 
given  of  the  popular  nonsense  of  such  books  as  Etdenepiegel  and 
Dm  SehUdhurger, 

Tho  first  of  these  jest-booka  was  edited  in- 1619  by  a  monk — 


VL]  GOHIG  STOBIES.  83 

Thoicas  Mxtsneb — who  collected  a  number  of  jocose  stories  long 
current  among  the  people.  Eulenspiegel,  the  hero  of  the  tales, 
was  by  birth  a  peasant,  but  gained  his  notoriety  as  a  wandering 
jourueyman,  and  concealed  a  love  of  fun  and  mischief  under  the 
disguise  of  extraordinary  simplicity. 

His  chief  characteristic  makes  hira  a  model  for  attorneys.  In 
obedience  to  all  instructions  given  by  his  masters,  he  accepts  their 
words  in  a  strictly  literal  sense,  and  so  as  to  pervert  their  mean- 
ing. Tie  always  means  well ;  his  purpose  is  honest,  and  his  dispo- 
ffltion  is  obliging;  but  his  mental  vision  is  oblique,. like  that  of 
Ralph  in  '  Hudibras,'  who  by  fair  logic  could  defend  almost  any 
absurdity.  A  furrier  gives  Master  Eulenspiegel  ordfers  to  make 
some  fur-coats  of  wolves'  skins,  and,  for  the  sake,  of  brevity,  calls 
them  ^  wolves ', '  the  honest  journeyman,  therefore,  stuffs  the  hides 
with  hay,  and  sends  them  back  as  preserved  i^cimens  of  the 
species  cants  lupus.  When  the  furrier  refuses  to  pay  for  these 
curiosities,  Eulenspiegel  complains  as  an  ill*used  working-man, 
and  at  the  same  time  gives  his  master  a  lesson  on  the  correct  use 
of  language.  '  If  you  wanted  fur-coats  made  from  the  skins  of 
wolves,'  says  Eulenspiegel,  'why  did  you  not  tell  me  so  plainly  P ' 
The  popularity  of  Eukmpieffel  may  be  partly  ascribed  to  the 
coarseness  of  some  of  his  jokes.  A  considerable  amount  of  learn- 
ing has  been  expended  <yi  the  derivation  of  his  name,  but  it  still 
^remains  doubtful.  It  has  been  asserted  by  several  vmters  that 
<  Tyll  Eulenspiegel '  aclually  lived, '  probably  in  the  early  part  of 
the  fourteenth  century ; '  that '  he  traveU^  mostly  in  the  north 
of  Germany,  and  at  last  setUed  at  Iklollen  near  Liibeck,  where  he 
was  buried  in  1350,'  and  that  <  long  after  that  time  his  grave  used 
to  be  visited  by  wandering  journeymen  and  others.'  No  good 
authority  can  be  referred  to  for  these  statements.  Eulenspiegel's 
jokes  were,  most  probably,  both  invented  and  circulated  by  wan- 
dering ^€se2/^n— journeymen  tailors,  shoemakers,  and  joiners — ^who 
had  a  literature  of  their  own  in  these  times.  • 

Another  series  of  popular  stories  tells  us  how,  in  old  times,  '  the 
men  of  Schilda' — a  town  in  Prussian  Saxony — ^were  so  wise  that 
their  advice  on  the  management  of  goverment  affairs  was  eagerly 
sought  after  by  many  foreign  princes.  The  result  was  that  '  the 
wise  men  '  were  very  seldom  found  at  home,  and  their  ovra  affairs 
were  allowed  to  Ml  into  a  ruinous  ooadition.  Their  wives  thea 
called  the  philosophers  back  to  Schilda,  •oiif  in  ageneral  ooundl^ 

o2 


84  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

it  was  resolved  that,  for  the  fatare,  theur  wisdom  should  be  con- 
cealed under  a  pretence  of  extreme  folly.  This^  at  last,  became 
their  second  nature ;  so  that  they  were  incapable  of  managing 
their  own  estates,  and  Schilda  was  again  in  great  adversity. 
Numerous  emigrations  then  followed ;  the  men  of  Schilda  went 
forth,  and  settled  in  all  the  surrounding  lands,  and  this  explains 
the  fact  that  their  descendants  are  now  found  everywhere. 

The  preceding  notices  of  a  popular  literature  characterised 
mostly  by  its  satirical  spirit  may  serve  to  explain  the  remarkable 
popularity  of  Das  Narrenschiff  ('  The  Ship  of  Fools '),  printed  at 
Basel  in  1494.  Though  it  had  no  beauty  of  style,  its  superiority 
to  the  ordinary  didactic  and  satirical  books  of  the  times  was  soon 
recognised  by  the  educated  classes.  Ten  editions  of  the  book 
were  issued  before  the  dose  of  the  year  1512 ;  it  was  so^n  trans- 
lated into  Latin,  English,  and  French,  and  Geiler,  the  popular 
preacher,  chose  it  as  his  text-book  for  a  series  of  sermons. 
Sebastiait  Bbandt,  the  writer  of  this  successful  book,  was  bom 
in  1458' at  Strassburg,  where  he  was  appointed  town-derk  in  1603, 
and  died  in  1521.  He  was  the  friend  of  Dr.  Geilei,  and  was 
patronised  by  the  emperor  Maxmilian  I.  Of  all  the  satirists  of 
this  period  Brandt  was  the  most  amiable.  He  felt  grief  for  the 
errors  and  miseries  of  the  age,  and  his  latest  years  were  darkened 
by  a  foreboding  that  the  world  would  perish  in  a  second  general 
deluge  in  1524.  In  his  '  Ship '  the  author  arranges  '  fools '  in  ond 
hundred  and  ten  classes ;  but  in  describing  them  he  write^  with- 
out a  plan,  and  his  boqk  is  a  series  of  ill-connected  homilies,  pro- 
verbs, and  complaints  on  such  topics  as  the  decay  of  true  religion 
and  the  'growth  of  infidelity  and  superstition.  One  of  his  best 
sermons  is  on  the  moral  training  of  children,  and  another  is  di- 
rected against  the  contempt  of  poverty.  He  generally  reproves 
without  bitterness  and,  with  good  humour,  classes  himself  with 
'  the  fools  who  buy  more  books  than  they  can  read  an^  undei^ 
stand.'  Among  several  passages  illustrative  of  the  rude  manners 
of  the  age,  one  of  the  more  remarkable  refers  to  gross  disorder  in 
places  of  worship.  The  satirist  might  well  have  been  more 
severe  than  he  is  in  describing  <  the  fools  who  bring  their  hounds 
to  church,  and  strut  about  and  chatter  loudly  while  the  Mass  is 
read.'  Gsileb,  in  one  of  his  sermons,  makes  the  same  complaint. 
'Another  sign  of  afool,'iie  says,  *is  disturbing  divine  worship, 
as  some  do  who  come  into  the  church  with  their  birds  and  their 


VI.]  BRANDT— GEILER—MUKNER.  85 

dog8|  96  if  they  were  going  out  hawjking  or  hunting.  What  with 
the  tinklings  of  their  hawks'  bella  and  the  snarling  of  their  hounds, 
neither  the  preacher  nor  the  choristers  can  be  heard?  To  make 
his  complaint  more  remarkable,  the  preacher  refers  to  men  in  holy 
orders  who  were  guilty  of  such  gross  irreverence. 

In  these  notices  of  literature  in  its  connection  with  the  faith 
and  the  morals  of  the  age  the  sermons  of  Gbileb  (1445-1510) 
must  be  mentioned  with  respect.  Though  he  stooped  too  low  in 
his  endeavours  to  win  the  attention  of  the  people,  he  wad  a  faith- 
ful and  practical  teacher.  In  a  series  of  discourses  *  on  the  sins 
of  the  tongue/  one  of  the  best  is  on  a  topic  that  would  hardly  be 
here  expected — silence.  The  preacher  ascribes  all  due  praise  to 
silence,  but  condemns  it  when  it  has  for  its  motive  either  indolence, 
or  pride,  or  cowardice.  The  discourse  is  very  distinctly  arranged, 
but  has  too  many  subdivisioDS.  As  an  example  of  the  preacher's 
extreme  condescension,  one  sermon  is  noticeable  in  which  he 
deduces  moral  lessons  from  natural  history.  He  tells  his  congrega* 
tion  that  a  hare  has  long  eartf,  which  are  quick  in  catching  sounds^ 
'  and  these  signify  the  attention  with  which  we  should  hear  the 
Bible  read ; '  and  that  a  hare  can  run  better  up-hill  than  down^ 
which  shows  that  a  Christian  should  be  active  in  climbing  up  the 
hill  of  virtue.  When  a  lion  had  been  exhibited  in  a  show  at 
Strassburg,  the  preacher  followed,  as  a  competitor  for  popular 
attention,  with  a  sermon  on  '  the  lion  of  hell.'  It  is  possible  that 
some  of  the  eccentricities  of  Qeiler's  sermons  may  be  ascribed  to 
their  editors,  for  among  them  we  find  Johannes  Fauli^  already 
named  as  a  collector  of  jokes. 

We  have  already  alluded  to  a  satirist  far  more  energetic  than 
Sebastian  Brandt — a  restless,  wandering,  polemic  monk  named 
Thouas  Muhnxr,  who  may  be  regarded  as  an  extreme  represen- 
tative of  all  the  discontent  of  the  times  in  which  he  lived.  He 
was  bom  at  Strassburg  in  1475,  and,  after  studying  in  several 
schools  at  Paris,  Cologne,  Prague,  and  Vienna^  was  crowned  poet 
laureate  by  the  Emperor  Maximilian  I.  The  rest  of  his  biography 
is  a  report  of  controversies  in  which  he  was  incessantly  engaged. 
One  of  the  first  was  that  of  the  Dominicans  and  the  Franciscans 
respecting  the  immaculate  conception.  In  early  life  Murner  was 
the  friend  of  Reuchlin,  and  at  its  close  he  was  one  of  the  bitterest 
enemies  of  Luther.  No  class  of  society  was  safe  from  Humerus 
satire.    He  wrote  against  bishops,  reformers,  monks,  nuns,  noble- 


86  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  LITERATXmE.  [Gk. 

men^  and  lawyers.  IJi;bioh  yok  Huttbit,  who  was  a  champion 
for  the  Reformation  with  both  aword  and  pen,  and  the  principal 
writer  of  tffe  celebrated  '  Epistoln  Yirorum  Obscurorum/  agreed 
on  many  points  with  Mumer,  yet  was  not  spared  by  him.  The 
polemic  monk  trayelled  hither  and  thither  with  no  fixed  purpose 
in  life,  and  hardly  anywhere  failed  in  making  eneiifies.  In  1512 
he  published  one  of  his  chief  works^  Die  Narrenbescfiwontng  (*  The 
Exorcism  of  Fools '),  which  was  suggested  by  Brandt^s  Narret^ 
Mchif,  bat  was  not  an  imitation.  Another  of  Mumer's  satires. 
Die  Sehelmensunft  {*Thf^  Rogues'  Club'),  consists  of  the  substance 
of  a  series  of  sermons  preached  by  the  author  at  Frankfurt  Its 
style  is  low  and  coarse,  but  he  pleads  that  the  public  liked  it. 
'  Some  tell  me/  he  says,  ^to  remember  my  sacred  calling,  and  to 
write  seriously  on  religious  subjects;  but  the  fact  is,  I  have 
written  about  fifty  serious  books,  and  the  4>ublisher8 '  will  not 
even  look  at  them.  So  I  have  locked  up  all  my  divinity  in  a 
chest.  And,  as  it  is  now  counted  a  degradation  to  write  German 
rhymes,  I  must  plead  that  I  cannot  help  it ;  for  when  I  try  to 
write  sober  prose,  I  JGind  my  pen  running  into  ^ymes  against  my 
own  purpose.'  Nothing  can  exceed  the  violence  of  Mumer's 
declamations  against  simony,  secular  church  patronage,  and  the 
luxurious  lives  of  the  superior  clergy ;  nor  are  the  laity  spared. 
He  denoimces  especially  their  oppressive  taxation  of  the  poor. 
^  When  a  hen  lays  an  egg,*  he  says,  *  the  landlord  takes  the  yolk, 
his  lady  has  the  white,  and  the  boor  is  allowed  'to  keep  the  shell.' 
Mumer's  best  work,  'The  Qreat  Lutheran  Fool,  as  exorcised  by 
Dr.  Mumer*  (1522),  strictly  belongs  to  the  sixteenth  century; 
but  may  be  noticed  here,  that  we  may  more  speedily  close  our 
interview  with  this  polemic  monk.  In  this  satire  he  introduces 
Luther  as  commander-in-chief  of  a  large  army  marching  in  three 
divisions.  The  infantry  carry  a  flag  with  the  word  *  Gospel '  con- 
spicuously displayed ;  the  banner  of  the  cavalry  has  the  inscrip- 
tion 'Freedom,'  and  the  baggage  have  for  their  motto  'The 
Truth.'  As  they  march  along,  they  boast  of  their  exclusive 
possession  of  these  three  flags.  We  give  a  condensation  rather 
than  a  full  trandation  of  a  few  lines  from  this  part  of  the  satire : — 

Forth  oat  of  Bab}'1on'we  go 
To  make  the  loftiest  mountains  low. 
To  lift  the  valley  and  the  plain. 
.    Our  Luther  tells  us  to  abstiun 

From  aU  good  woAa,  and  not  in  vain— 


VI.]  MUENER.  87 

Whatever  he  commands  we  do ; 
For  all  that  Lather  says  ia  trae. 

Mumer  then  goes  on  to  say  that  all  the  three  banners  carried 
by  the  insurgents  have  been  stolem  '  The  evangelical  flag/  he 
says,  has  b^  the  property  of  the  faithful  for  more  than  fifteen 
hundred  years.  '  The  truth '  belongs  to  no  individual  man,  but  to 
the  whole  congregation  of  believers,  and  Christian  '  freedom '  is 
understood  only  by  Catholics.  Luther  leads  on  his  forces  to 
destroy  churches  and  monasteries^  but  Mumer  and  his  fnends 
offer  a  stout  resistance.  A  hard  fight  is  followed  by  a  truce  and — 
oddly  enough — by  Mumer*s  marriage  with  one  of  Luther*s 
daughters  I  What  this  incident  may  be  intended  tp  symbolise 
we  cannot  even  guess.  The  leader  of  the  faithful  is,  however, 
disappointed  in  matrimony,  and  soon  divorces  his  wife.  Hostilities 
are  resumed  and  continued  until  the  death  of  Luther  makes  an 
end  of  the  war.  He  is  buried  with  contempt,  as  a  heretic,  and 
Mumer,  with  great  delight,  acts  as  conductor  at  a  charivari,  or 
*  concert  of  cats*  music,'  vigorously  performed  at  the  grave  of  th« 
reformer ! 

Li  1523,  soon  after  the  publication  of  the  satire  on  Luther,  its 
y^  .  author  was  invited  to  England  by  King  Henry  VHL,  in  whose 
defence  he  bad  written  a  tract  with  a  strange  title — '  Is  the  King 
of  England  a  Liar  P^-or  is  Luther  P '  In  the  same  year  Mumer 
returned  to  Strassburg,  and  there  set  up  his  own  press;, for  he 
could  not  find  printers  for  his  violent  satires.  He  was  busy  in 
preparing  some  new  work,  when  his  house  was  plundered  and  his 
press  broken  in  pieces  by  a  mob.  Mumer  then  escaped  from 
Strassburg,  and  in  1529  arrived,  in  a  state  of  utter  destitution,  at 
Luceme,  where  a  public  subscription  was  made  to  provide  for  him 
a  new  suit  of  clothes.  His  restless,  life  closed  in  mystery, 
all  that  is  known  further  being  that,  some  short  time  before 
1537,  he  found  rest  in  the  grave. 

Whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  quality  of  Mumer's  writings, 
they  deserve  notice  as  representing  the  temper  of  his  times — times 
when  men,  on  both  sides  of  the  great  controversy  then  waged, 
were  wanting  in  self-knowledge  and  charity.  Under  their  zeal 
for  opinions  they  often  concealed  pride,  self-will,  and  malice. 
Their  tenets  were  forms  behind  which  not  seldom  lurked  a  sell- 
asserting  will.  Satirists  Eke  Mumer  have  a  buming  zeal  for 
truth,  but  hardly  see  the  results  to  which  they  lead  men.     If 


88 


OUTLINES  OF  GEKMAN  UTEKATTJEE. 


[Ch. 


error  has  an  overwhelming  majority,  what  hope  is  there  for  the 
truth  P  If  all  the  world  has  always  been  wrong,  why  not  distrust 
the  satirist  himself?  Whatever  the  errors  of  society,  they  will 
not  be  corrected  by  abstract  maxims.  The  polemic  writer  often 
assumes  as  an  axiom  that,  since  his  opponents  are  wrong,  he  must 
be  right — ^if  two  dark  colours  differ  by  a  shade,  oneVust  be  white. 
.  But  it  is  dear  that  of  two  contending  parties  both  may  be  in 
trror,  and  the  truth  may  rest  with  a  third,  not  involved  in  their 
dispute.  Mumer  had  many  followers  who,  dissenting  from  his 
opinions,  were  like  him  in  temper.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  of 
the  bitter  polemic  writers  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  his  name 
has,  therefore,  suggested  remarks  that  may  be  applied  as  fjEurly  to 
some  of  his  opponents  as  to  himself. 

Our  view  of  this  closing  period  of  the  Middle  Ages  has  been,  on 
the  whole,  gloomy.  The  impression  we  have  received  from  the 
low  imaginative  literature  of  the  times  is  not  removed  when  we 
turn  to  history. 


▼n.]  CHEONICLBS  OF  TOWKS,  89 


CHAPTER  Vn, 

TEIRD  PEBIOD.     1360-1525. 

OHSORIGLBS  OF  TO'WNS — DIDACnO  PB08X — THB  KTSTICS — TAT7I2&^ 

'DXB  FBANCKFOBTBB.' 

AjroNG  the  cbroniclers  of  the  period,  one  of  the  earliest  was 
Fbitzsche  Closeitbr,  a  canon  of  Strassburg,  who  died  in  1384. 
He  wrote,  in  very  simple  prose,  a  record  of  the  chief  events  of  his 
times,  and  his  chronicle — excepting,  perhaps,  the  notes  on  frequent 
earthquakes — seems  trustworthy.  The  most  interesting  passages 
are  those  which  describe  the  spread  of  the  pestilence,  the  perse- 
cutions of  the  Jews,  and  the  processions  of  the  flagellants.  His 
account  of  the  '  black  death ' — so  the  epidemic  of  the  times  was 
called — -tuakes  it  clear  that  it  was  the  Oriental  plague.  '  In  the 
year  1349,'  he  says,  'when  the  flagellants  came  to  Strassburg, 
there  was  a  mortality  among  the  people,  such  as  had  neyer  been 
known  before,  and  it  continued  all  the  time  the  flagellants  stayed 
with  us,  but  abated  when  they  went  away.  Every  day,  in  each 
parish,  from  eight  to  ten  corpses  were  buried  in  the  churchyard, 
to  say  nothing  of  many  others  interred  near  convents  and  at  the 
hospital.  The  old  graveyard  of  the  hospital  was  found  too  small, 
and  they  added  a  large  piece  of  garden-ground  to  it.  All  who 
died  of  the  pest  had  boils  or  tumours,  mostly  under  their  arms, 
and  after  these  appeared  the  plague-stricken  died  generally  on  the 
third  or  fourth  day ;  but  some  died  on  the  first  day.  The  plague 
was  clearly  infectious,  for  it  seldom  happened  that  only  one  died 
in  a  house.*  '  In  the  same  year,'  he  tells  us,  in  his  own  calm 
style,  '  on  St.  Feltin's  Day,  the  Jews  were  burned  on  a  wooden 
scafibld  set  up  in  the  churchyard.  Such  burnings  of  Jews  took 
place  not  only  in  Strassburg,  but  in  all  the  towns  along  the  Rhine, 
because  the  people  •believed  that  the  Jews  had  brought  the 
pestilence  among  us  by  putting  poisoiynto  the  springs  and  other 
waters.    In  some  places  the  Jews  were  burned  after  a  form  of 


90  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUBE.  iCa. 

trial,  but  ID  others  their  houses  were  fired,  and  they  were  not 
allowed  to  escape  from  the  flames.'  Closener^s  account  of  the 
flagellants  is  striking  enough  to  merit  a  succinct  quotation : — 

In  the  same  year  (1349)  two  bnndred  brethren  of  the  scooige  came  to 
Strassburg.  They  marched  into  the  town,  two  and  two  abreast,  chanting  a 
lamentation,  and  carrying  banners  and  lighted  candles,  while,  aa  they  came 
into  the  town,  the  bells  of  the  cathedral  were  tolled.  When  they  entered  a 
church,  they  first  all  kneeled  down  and  chanted  a  hymn  beginning  thus  : — 

*  For  drink  they  gave  to  Jesu  gall : 
Here,  fellow-sinners,  let  us  falL'  .  .  . 

Then,  extending  their  arms,  and  making  themselres  so  many  likenesses  of 
the  cross,  they  fell  all  at  once,  with  a  loud  clapping  sound,  flat  on  the  pave- 
ment. Twice  a  day,  early  and  late,  they  publicly  scourged  themselves  with 
knotted  cords,  and  this  was  their  fashion  of  doing  it : — The  bells  of  the 
cathedral  were  tolled  as  they  marched  two  and  two  abreast  out  of  the  town 
into  the  open  field.  There,  having  stripped  themselves  down  to  the  waist, 
they  lay  down  ba  the  grass,  so  as  to  form  a  wide  circle,  and  each  brother,  by 
his  mode  of  U  ing  down,  confessed  the  chief  sin  of  which  he  had  been  guilty. 
Thus  one  guilty  of  perjury  Jay  on  one  side  and  raised  his  hand,  with  three 
fingers  extended.  .  ,  .  Then,  at  their  master's  bidding,  they  arose  in  suc- 
cet^ion,  and  some  of  their  best  singers  sang  a  hymn  beginning  with  the 
lilies— 

'  Come  hither  all  who  would  not  dwell 
For  ever  in  the  flumes  of  hell ! '  .  .  . 

And,  while  they  were  singing,  the  brethren  went  round  about  in  a  ring,  and 
scourged  thtir  naked  backs  until  the  blood  flawed  freely  from  many  of 
them.  Then  they  fell  Again  to  the  earth,  and  remained  lying  there,  with 
arD)s  extended  in  the  fashion  of  a  cross,  until  the  singing  men  began  a  hymn 
on  tii6  crucifixiun : — 

*  Ifaria  stood,  with  anguish  sighing, 
While  on  the  craas  her  Son  was  dying.'  .  .  . 

Whereupon  the  flagellants  arose,  and  repeated  their  scourging  of  them- 
selves ;  and  this  was  done  again  and  again.  .  .  .  Then  there  was  read  to 
them  a  letter  brought,  it  was  said,  from  heaven  by  an  angel.  It  told  how, 
for  the  sins  of  the  times,  plague  and  famine,  fire  and  earthquake,  had  visited 
the  land,  and  how  the  Sxracens  had  been  allowed  to  shed  much  Christian 
blood  ;  and  it  threatened  that,  if  men  would  not  repent,  strange  wild  beasts 
and  birds,  such  as  were  never  seen  before,  would  be  sent  to  make  desoliUe 
all  the  land.  .  .  .  Also  the  angel's  letter  commanded  that  Sundays  and 
Saints'  Days  »hould  be  strictly  observed.  .  .  .  The  people  at  first  believed 
in  the  letter,  and  in  the  sayings  of  the  flagellants,  more  than  in  all  that  the 
priests  said,  and  the  clergy  who  talked  against  the  brethren  of  the  scourge 
did  not  giiin  the  favour  of  the  people.  .  .  .  Women  formed  themselves  into 
companies  to  imitate  the  flagellants,  and  even  children  gathered  together  to 
whip  themselves.  ...  In  the  course  of  time,  •however,  the  Strassbuig 
people  grew  weary  of  the  brethren,  and  would  not  have  the  minster  bell 
tolled  for  their  processions,  %nd  at  lant  a  law  was  made,  that  whoerer 
wbhed  to  scourge  himself  most  do  it  privately  in  his  own  dweliing. 


Vn.]  CHRONICLES  OF  TOWNS.  91 

The  canon  ends  his  chronicle  with  one  more  earthquake,  very 
briefly  mentioned ;  thus :— *In  the  year  1362,  on  the  morning  of 
Sunday,  the  ninth  day  after  St.  Petei^s,  and  while  they  were 
chanting  matins  in  the  minster,  there  was  an  earthquake.  On  the 
same  day  this  book  was  finished  by  Fritzsche  Closener,  a  priest  at 
Strassburg.'  His  chronicle  was  extended  by  Jakob'  TwiNeER,  who 
died  at  Strassburg  jn  1420. 

Several  books  of  the  same  class — such  as  the  '  Limburg  Chro- 
nicle/ a  *  History  of  Breslau  in  1440-79/  by  Pbter  Eschenlosr, 
and  *  The  Chronicle  of  the  Holy  City  of  Cologne/  by  an  unknown 
author,  supply  some  interesting  facts  respecting  the  growth  of  the 
towns  and  their  government.  Two  writers,  both  named  Diebold 
Schilling — one  of  Solothum,  who  died  in  1485  j  the  other  of 
Lucerne,  who  died  about  1620 — ^must  be  named  as  the  best  Swiss 
chroniclers  of  their  times.  Jvstikger,  who  died  in  1426,  and 
Frickhard,  who  died,  in  his  ninetieth  year,  in  1519,  both  wrote 
of  the  history  of  Berne,  and  Melchior  Rttss,  who  was  living  near 
the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  wrote  the  annals  of  Lucerne. 
Li  the  general '  Chronicle  of  the  Swiss  Confederation,*  by  Pbter- 
iCANir  Ettsrlin,  who  died  in  1507,  the  former  part  is  fabulous ; 
but  the  notices  of  affairs  in  his  own  time  have  some  historical 
value. 


Was  there  in  these  times  no  better  German  literature  than  such 
as  has  been  described  P  Yes ;  but  it  belonged  to  another  world, 
not  to  the  world  of  contentions  and  divisions  represented  in  such 
literature  as  we  have  noticed.  The  meditative  men  of  the  times, 
the  Mystics,  knew  that  the  world  around  them  required  a  .reno- 
vation, not  external,  but  spiritual  and  deep,  and  that  this  renova- 
tion must  take  place,  first  of  aU,  in  the  reformer's  own  mind.  So 
they  retired  from  the  sti-ife  of  society  to  find  or  to  make  peace  in 
the  world  of  their  own  thoughts.  Their  writings  would  deserve 
notice,  if  only  on  account  of  their  improved  prose  style. 

JoHAiTNES  Tattler,  bom,  probably  at  Strassburg,  about  1290, 
died  in  1361.  In  early  life  he  entered  the  Dominican  Order, 
and  was,  for  a  time,  the  pupil  of  Eckhart.  After  studying 
metaphysics  and  divinity,  Tauler  wrote  and  preached  many  ser- 
mons, displayed  considerable  learning  in  theology,  and  gained  a 
reputation  before  he  was  fifty  years  old.    At  that  time  he  received 


92  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

a  Tisiffrom  a  layman,  Nicolaus  of  Basel,  tlie  head  of  a  leligious 
brotherhood.  This  visitor  told  the  great  preacher  that  his  sermons 
were  worthless,  and  that  his  knowledge  of  theology  was  merely 
intellectual  and  not  spiritual.  Tauler,  believing  his  new  teacher, 
abstained  from  preaching  for  two- years,  and  then  once  more 
appeared  in  the  pulpit.  He  now  preached  with  greater  depth  of 
thought  and  feeling,  and^  at  the  same  time,  more  practically.  Neither 
pantheistic  nor  passive,  his  mysticism  was  united  with  a  burning 
zeal  for  the  welfare  of  his  hearers.  Many  passages  in  his  sermons 
are  full  of  the  eloquence  not  derived  from  studied  diction,  but 
springing  immediately  from  the  heart.  ^True  humiliation/  he 
says  in  one  place,  ^is  an  impregnable  fortress.  All  the  world 
may  try  to  carry  it  by  storm ,  but  they  cannot.*  .  .  .  ^  Dear  soul/ 
he  says  again,  *  sink  into  the  abyss  of  thine  own  nothingness,  and 
then  let  a  tower  fall  to  crush  thee ;  or  all  the  demons  from  hell 
oppose  thee ;  or  heaven  and  earth,  with  all  their  creatures,  set 
themselves  in  battle  array  agidnst  thee — ^they  shall  not  prevail^ 
but  shall  be  made  to  serve  thee.'  Such  was  Tauler's  preaching 
on  his  favourite  theme.  Why  or  how  we  cannot  clearly  say,  but 
ho  offended  his  ecclesiastical  superiors,  and,  though  he  had  de- 
votedly laboured  to  spread  the  consolations  of  religion  among  the 
people  during  the  prevalence  of  the  plague  (in  1348),  he  waB 
forbidden  to  preach  and  was  driven  away  from  Strassburg.  His 
chief  work,  besides  a  series  of  sermons,  is  entitled  Die  Nachfolge 
des  annen  Lehms  Christie  which  may  be  translated  freely  as  '  The 
Imitation  of  Christ  in  His  Humiliation.' 

The  doctrine  most  prominent  in  the  writings  of  Tauler  and  his 
friends  is  that  religion  is  neither  a  history  nor  an  external  institu- 
tion, but  a  life  in  tbe  souls  of  men.  All  that  is  represented  as 
externally  or  historically  true  must  be  conceived  in  the  soul  and 
realised  in  experience  before  it  can  become  spiritually  true.  But 
the  word  '  spiritual,'  as  used  by  Tauler,  is  not  to  be  understood  in 
a  negative  or  merely  internal  sense ;  for  he  teaches  that  what  is 
spiritual  is  also  practical.  There  are  superficial  thoughts  that 
have  no  power  and  lead  to  no  practice  \  but  there  are  also  thoughts 
that  are  essentially  united  with  deep  feeling  and  a  corresponding 
practice,  and  these  are  spiritual  thoughts.  Tauler  and  other 
Mystics,  while  they  assert  the  necessary  union  of  religious  thought 
with  good  works,  dwell  rather  on  the  internal  source  than  on  the 
outward  results.    '  One  thought  of  God,  attended  with  absolute 


Vn.]  TAULEB.  93 

resignation  to  His  wiU^  is  worth  more/  says  Tauler, '  than  all  the 
good  works  done  in  Christendom/ 

The  teaching  of  Tauler  is  concisely  repeated  in  a  little  book 
first  entitled  Der  Franckforter^  to  which  Lather  afterwards  gave 
the  title  Eyn  deuUch  Theoloffioj  when  he  edited  a  part  of  It  in 
15 IG.  The  doctrine  of  this  short  treatise— written,  most  probably, 
in  the  fourteenth  century — ^reminds  us  of  the  speculations  of 
Eckhart.  The  '  fall  of  man/  or  the  origin  of  evil,  is  here  viewed 
not  hiBtorically,  but  as  a  present  and  continuouB  act  of  man's  will, 
in  the  assertion  of  itself  as  distinct  from  and  in  opposition  Ur  the 
will  of  the  Infinite.  Man's  will  is  the  centre  and  the  source  of  a 
world  of  disunion.  Before  his  '  fall,'  or  his  separation  from  the 
Infinite,  his  will  acted  aa  a  magnet  on  all  creatures,  and  held  them 
in  union  and  subordination ;  but  by  the  perversion  of  his  will  all 
creatures  are  perverted.  It  is  vain  ia  attempt,  in  the  first  place, 
any  outward  reformation.  Man  must  resign  his  will ;  must  claim 
no  life  in  or  for  himself;  must  not  imagine  that  he  can  possess 
anything  good,  as  power,  knowledge,  or  happiness.  All  such 
thoughts  as  are  expressed  in  the  words  *  I '  and  '  mine '  must  be 
renounced.  Such  resignation  is  the  birth  of  the  second  Adam. 
In  him  the  whole  creation  is  to  be  restored  to  its  primeval  divine 
order.  This  birth  of  the  second  Adam  must  take  place  in 
every  man  who  would  be  a  Christian.  He  must  become 
weary  of  himself  and  of  all  created  and  finite  things,  and,  relin- 
quishing all  his  desires,  must  resign  his  whole  soul  and  will. 
Though  good  works  wrought  in  the  life  of  the  renewed  soul 
are  holy,  yet  more  holy  is  the  inner,  silent  self-sacrifice  that  can 
never  be  fully  expressed  in  good  words  or  good  works ;  for  by  * 
that  inner  sacrifice  the  soul  is  translated  into  the  one  true  life 
beyond  all  death — the  eternal  Ufe  in  which  sin,  and  self,  and 
sorrow,  and  all  things  that  belong  to  the  creature  apart  from  God, 
are  for  ever  lost. 

Such  was  the  teaching  of  Tauleb  and  of  many  of  his  brethren 
in  the  fourteenth  century.  The  above  summary  may  serve  as  a 
substitute  for  notices  of  other  mystic  works  by  such  writers  as 
Hbinbich  vok  Nobdlinoen,  the  friend  of  Tauler,  Heikrich  der 
Seuse  (1300-66),  and  Rxtlman  Merswin  (1807^82),  another  of 
Tauler's  fiiends,  and  the  author  of  a  work  entitled  Da8  Buck  von 
den  newt  Feken  ('  The  Book  of  the  Nine  Kocks '). 

The  infiuence  of  the  Mystics  was  veiy  extensive,  and  lived  long 


94  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

after  the  Reformation.  It  has  been  said  that  to  read  one  of 
Tauler's  sermons  is  to  read  them  alL  This  is  not  exact ;  but  the 
general  accordance  of  the  mystic  writers,  from  the  fourteenth  \o 
the  seventeenth  century,  in  all  the  essential  parts  of  their  doctrine, 
is  veiy  remarkable. 

Of  their  relations  with  the  external  Church  we  have  hardly 
satisfactory  information.  They  were  persecuted,  but  not  to  such 
an  extent  as  might  hare  been  expected ;  for  the  full  purport  of 
their  teaching  was  not  understood  by  their  opponents.  It  was 
rather  remote  from,  than  directly  opposed  to,  the  tenets  of  the 
Church,  and  could  hardly  be  made  a  basis  for  ecclesiastical  re« 
formation.  A  vast  external  institution,  intended  to  include  nations 
under  its  sway,  might  tolerate  and  include  pious  brotherhoods 
like  the  Mystics,  but  could  not,  if  it  would,  enforce  their  doctrine 
or  their  practice.  With  regard  to  the  application  of  their  teach- 
ing to  practical  life,  some  ambiguity  may  be  complained  of.  The 
Mystics  evade  rather  than  solve  the  problem  of  uniting  such  a 
religious  life  as  their  own  with  a  fulfilment  of  the  duties  of  society. 
The  battle  of  life,  for  religious  men,  is  less  severe  in  the*  monastic 
cell  than  in  the  shop,  the  market,  the  school,  and  the  factory.  If 
the  Mystics  did  not  intend  to  say  that  retirement  from  the  world 
is  the  only  way  to  heaven,  they  wrote  words  that  seem  to  mean 
that  If  they  wished  to  teach  men  how  to  act  rightly  as  neigh- 
l>ours,  father?,  and  husbands,  and  when  engaged  in  trade  and 
industry,  they  should  have  been  more  explicit  and  condescending 
in  the  application  of  their  doctrine.  We  do  not  say  that  their 
doctrine  was  unpractical,  for  what  can  have  a  more  pi-ufound  effect 
\)n  life  than  the  subjugation  of  the  passions  and  the  resignation  of 
the  will  P  But,  with  reference  to  the  guidance  it  affords  for  men 
who  have  to  live  and  act  in  this  world,  the  teaching  of  the  Mystics 
may  be  described  as  abstract 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  in  concluding  this  review  of 
mediaeval  German  literature,  that  this  is  no  attempt  at  a  descrip- 
tion of  the  general  culture  of  the  times.  That  must  include  an 
account  of  the  revival  of  classic  literature — to  say  nothing  of  many 
Latin  folios  filled  with  the  subtile  disquisitions  of  the  schoolmen. 
The  German  literature  of  the  later  jniddle  ages  was  obscure  and 
despised — as  it  partly  deserved  to  be ;  yet  it  served  to  indicate 
gome  characteristics  of  coming  events.  There  might  be  seen, 
among  the  secular  anstocnu^  of  that  ag«y  as  in  the  Church  and 


▼IL]  TAULEB.  95 

in  the  great  schools  of  learning,  powers  that  rose  and  enthroned 
themselves  without  attempting  to  lift  up  the  people.  Men  were 
not  onlj  classified,  but  separated^  as  churchmen  and  laymen,  nobles 
and  peasantry,  scholars  and  illiterate.  The  press  was  multiplying 
copies  of  Roman  classics  for  the  enjoyment  of  scholars  luxuriating 
in  their  new-found  intellectual  wealth,  while  the  yemacular 
tongue  was  condemned  to  be  used  only  for  the  most  vulgar  pur- 
poses. The  sentence  was,  on  the  whole,  strictly  carried  into 
execution.  The  people  made  a  low  comic  literature  for  them- 
selves. They  could  satirise  existing  institutions,  but  had  no 
clear  notions  of  any  union  of  order  with  freedom.  When  freedom 
began  to  be  talked  of  among  other  classes,  the  peasantry  at- 
tempted to  revolutionise  society,  in  order  to  fulfil  absurd  predic- 
tioDs,  falsely  supposed  to  be  contained  in  the  Bible. 


96  OUTLINES  OF  eEKMAN  UTEBATUBE.  [Ge. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 
FOUBTH  PERIOD,    1626-1626. 

CHABACTBBISTICS   OF  THE  TIICB — ULBICH  TON  HUTTEN— LXTTBES. 

Discontent  was  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  later  middle  ages. 
We  speak  of  the  historical  world,  including  the  men  of  action, 
the  thinkers  and  the  writers  who  expressed  ^e  tendencies  of  their 
times.  There  existed  no  doubt  a  quiet,  .unheard-of  world — not  less 
important  than  the  historical — a  world  of  obscure  people,  happier 
than  the  men  who  are  ever  looking  forwards  and  beyond  their  own 
immediate  interests.  It  is  of  the  leading  men  we  write  when  we 
say  that  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  were  times  of  dis- 
content. We  have  r^ad  how  it  had  expressed  itself  with  regard 
to 'social  life,  and  the  institutions  of  both  the  State  and  the 
Church.  The  didactic  and  satirical  literature  already  noticed  is 
made  wearisome  by  iterated  complaints  of  the  dualism  existing  be- 
tween rich  and  poor,  between  master  and  servant,  the  learned  and 
the  unlearned,  the  priest  and  the  layman,  the  emperor  and  the 
pope.  '  But,  comparatively  speaking,  discontent  had  been  only 
muttered  in  the  fifteenth  century ;  in  the  sixteenth  it  was  out- 
spoken. The  literature  of  this  time  is,  consequently,  crude  in 
form  and  violent  in  temper,  but  deeply  interesting  in  its  purport 
— ^in  other  words,  in  its  connection  with  realities.  It  would  be 
unjust  to  pass  hastily  over  such  a  literature,  on  account  of  its  want 
of  a  superficial  polish.  We  might  as  well  leave  a  blank  in  the 
history  of  English  literature  from  Chaucer  to  Spenser,  or 
briefly  pass  by  the  authors  of  the  seventeenth  century,  in  order  to 
concentrate  attention  on  Pope  and  Addison. 

We  are  still  living  in  the  midst  of  the  movement  that  began  in 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  how  it  is  to  terminate  is  the  most  im- 
portant question  on  which  the  minds  of  men  are  divided.  Mar- 
Tellous  progress  has  recently  been  made  in  the  physical  sciencea 


Vin.]  CHAItACrrERlSTXC&  OF  THE  TIME.  97     V 

and  in  applied  mechanics,  but  m  polemic  literature  written  since 
the  sixteentH  century  we  find  little  that  is  both  new  and  impor- 
tant. And  this  is  neither  to  be  wondered  at  nor  deplored ;  for 
the  age  of  the  JEteformation  left  controyersies  in  which  we  are 
still  engi^ed,  and  problems  still  waiting  for  a  solution^  In  that 
age  all  the  abstract  axioms  of  the  French  Revolution  were  pub- 
lished. The  years  of  the  Parisian  anarchy  (178^-99)  hardly 
gave  birth  to  one  original  notion.  Proudhon's  startliug  axiom  was 
preached  in  Germany  in  the  thirteenth  century,  and  was  accepted 
as  a  new  Gospel  by  many  in  the  sixteenth,  when  men  of  some 
learning  could  quote  Greek,  and  refer  to  the  fathers  and  the  school- 
men, to  support  the  doctrine  that  property  should  be  abolished. 
Luther's  own  notions  on  the  subject  were  unsound,  as  modern 
political  economists  would  say ;  but  he  hated  the  extreme  opinions 
maintained  by  some  educated  men  in  his  time  and  afterwards. 
Others  beside  the  peasantry  were  dreaming  of  a  new  order  of 
society  introduced  db  extra^  with  abstract  theory  for  a  ground- 
plan,  and  violence  instead  of  workmanship  for  carrying  it  into 
execution.  One  learned  man  made  a  dreary  sketch  of  a  '  Model 
City,'  where  all  the  inhabitants  were  to  be  made  happy  by  good 
sanitary  regulations,  improved  cookery,  and  the  abolition'of  reli- 
gion. Another  dreamer,  in  his  '  Solar  State,'  arranged  a  system 
of  society  regulated  like  a  complex  clock-work,  with  the  abolition 
of  both  freedom  and  property  as  a  moving  power.  Making  such 
Utopias  on  paper  was  one  of  the  amusements  of  learned  men  in 
those  days. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  regard  the  controversy  of  the  sixteenth  century 
as  exclusively  theological  or  ecclesiastical,  and  it  is  a  greater 
mistake  to  ascribe  the  whole  movement  to  the  z6al  of  a  discon- 
tented monk.  Luther  neither  inspired  the  dreams  of  Munzer  and 
the  Anabaptists,  nor  excited  the  peasants  and  others  who  en- 
deavoured to  fulfil  such  dreams.  He  might  as  well  be  accused  of 
calling  Savonarola  into  existence.  There  have  been  historians 
who  could  ingeniously  explain  great  events  by  mean  anecdotes  of 
personal  interests,  but  it  is  more  intelligible  to  ascribe  great 
results  to  great  thoughts — thoughts  that  have  an  irresistible  power 
of  first  making  themselves  common  and  then  demanding  to  be 
carried  into  execution.  The  prevalence  of  such  'thoughts  in  the 
slzteenth  century  made  it  a  grand  epoch.  The  main  control  ersy 
was  part  of  a  process,  still  going  on  in  the  world,  and  having  for  its 

H 


98  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

object  to  lead  men  througli  all  their  errors  to  a  linowledge  of 
tbemselyes  and  of  the  Divine  Goyernment  to  which  they  must 
submit.  This  was  the  goal  kept  in  view  by  good  and  honest 
inquirers  in  the  sixteenth  century,  but  they  differed  widely  re- 
specting the  ways  that  led  to'it ;  in  other  words,  on  the  respective 
claims  of  the  Church,  the  Scriptures,  and  free  inquiry.  The 
controversy  that  followed  is  only  partiaDy  represented  in  the 
German  literature  of  the  time.  It  is  hardly  necessaxy,  therefore, 
to  say  that,  in  our  notices  of  writers  who  lived  during  the  time  of 
the  Reformation,  we  do  not  pretend  to  give,  even  in  outline,  a 
history  of  that  movement. 

The  controversy  of  the  age  gave  only  temporary  life  and 
vigour  to  German  literature,  which  then,  for  a  short  time,  might 
be  called  national.  No  longer  confined  to  convents  or  to  cofirts, 
it  had  its  centres  in  several  newly-founded  universities,  and  was 
spread  abroad  by  means  of  the  printing  press.  The  Bible,  trans- 
lated by  Luther,  was  the  people's  book,  and  hymns,  founded  on 
popular  models,  contained  the  best  poetry  written  at  that  period. 
The  rapid  decline  of  this  new  literature  is  easily  explained  by  a 
reference  to  political  and  ecclesiastical  history.  Expectations  of 
political  freedom,  cherished  at  the  opening  of  the  century,  were 
soon  disappointed ;  dreams  of  pious  men  who  had  endeavoured  to 
spread  the  teaching  of  a  religion  independent  of  external  forms, 
were  not  fulfilled;  Luther^  in  his  earlier  years,  read  Tauler*s 
sermons,  and  edited  the  '  German  Theology ; '  but  qutbreaks  of 
fanaticism  soon  induced  him  to  defencT'bis  ovm  work  of  reforma- 
tion by  entrenching  himself  within  a  stric^system  of  theological 
institutes.  The  disappointment  of  men  who  wal^ted  more  freedom 
in  theology  was  expressed  by  Sebajstiak  FBAWCi  (1500-46),  one 
of  the  best  prose  writers  of  this  time.  Luther  denoilDced  him  and 
his  Mends  as  wild  visionaries,  *  always  prating  of  Geist,  Geist, 
Geist;  ''in  other  words,  setting  up  their  ovm  convictions  fl§  distinct 
from  Luther's  exposition  of  the  Bible. 

These  and  more  serious  dissensions  impaired  the  strength  of  the 
Reformation  movement,  while  its  influence  on  the  general  ciJlture 
of  the  people  wa^greatly  diminished  by  the  use  of  two  languages — 
Latin  for  the  learned,  and  a  half-barbarous  German  for  the  com- 
mon people.  Leturned  men  wrote  in  Latin  on  philology  a?id 
theology,  and  the  people  were  left  with  few  intellectual  leadejfs. 
The  enthusiastic  patriot  Kxtites  saw  the  error  of  this  division  pf 


Vin.]  ULRICH  VON  HUTTEN.  99 

languages^  and  endeaTOured  to  write  in  hia  native  tongue^  so  as  to 
Le  read  by  the  people ;  but  he  succeeded  only  to  a  limited  extent, 
and  when  more  than  thirty  years  old  could  write  far  better 
in  Latin  than  in  German.  The  verse  written  during  the  sixteenth 
century — excepting  Lutheran  hymns— is,  with  regard  to  both 
style  and  purport,  inferior  to  the  literature  of  prose,  which  would 
moreover  demand  precedence  here,  if  only  on  account  of  one 
fact;  the  greatest  literary  work  of  the  century — the  work  that 
established  Nsw  High  Gebmait  as  the  language  of  the  German 
people — ^is  Luther^s  translation  of  the  Bible. 

Mabtin  LuTHEBy  the  son  of  a  poor  miner,  was  bom  at  Eisleben 
on  the  tenth  of  November,  1483;  he  received  his  early  education  at 
several  schools,  in  Mansfeld,  Magdeburg,  and  Eisenach,  and  went 
to  the  University  of  Erfurt  in  1501.  After  some  studies  in  theology 
and  scholastic  philosophy,  he,  in  opposition  to  the  advice  of  friends, 
took  vows  as  an  Augustine  monk,  and  devoted  himself  to  religious 
exercises  and  the  study  of  the  Bible.  A  visit  to  Kome  (1510) 
served  to  increase  his  dissatisfaction  vrith  some  practices  au- 
thorised by  the  Church,  especially  the  sale  of  indulgences.  The 
controversy  excited  by  his  publication  of. ninety-five  theses  against 
indulgences  was  revived  by  his  disputation  vrith  Dr.  Eck,  which 
was  followed  by  the  excommunication  of  the  reformer  in  1520. 
He  thereupon  published  '  An  Address  to  the  Nobility,'  and  prayed 
for  their  assistance  in  the  reformation  of  the  Church  and  the 
universities. 

Meanwhile  Uijbich  yok  JIx7TIEN,  a  man  of  noble  aacestry  (bom 

in  1488),  had  already  exhorted  the  aristocracy  to  win  by  the  sword 

their  national  independence.    He,  at  first,  thought  lightly  of  the 

controversy  raised  by  Luther,  as  if  it  had  been  a  quarrel  of  monks 

on  a  theological  question ;  but  soon  understood  that  national  and 

religious  freedom  must  rise  or  fall  together.    Ulrich,  v^ho  had 

written  in  Latin  several  of  the  '  Epistles  of  obscure  Men,'  against 

the  ecclesiastical  authority  of  Rome,  now  studied  German,  in 

order  that  he  might  co-operate  more  powerfully  vrith  Luther. 

But  the  two  reformers  differed  in  their  choice  of  weapons.    Ulrich 

would  use  the  sword ;  Luther,  as  he  said,  would  trust  in  *  the 

Word ; '  or  in  arguments  based,  as  he  believed,  oi^  the  Scriptures. 

Ulrich,  denoimced  as  a  heretic  and  a  traitor,  was  driven  from  one 

town  to  another ;  till  he  found  a  refuge  for  a  time  in  the  castie  of 

Franz  von  Seddngen.    Thence  he  escaped  into  Switzerland|  and 

h2 


100  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

died  is  a  retreat  on  the  island  of  TJfenau  in  the  Lake  of  Zurich,  in 
15^23.  His  satires,  in  the  form  of  dialogues,  and  his  ^  Complaint, 
addressed  to  the  German  People/  are  remarkable  expressions  of 
the  polemic  temper  of  the  time.  The  purpose  to  which  he  devoted 
his  life  was  to  liberate  his  native  land  firom  the  religious  and 
political  dominion  of  Rome,  and  from  the  powers  usurped  by  the 
princes  of  the  several  States.  Alea  jacta  esto,  was  Ulrich's  motto  ^ 
when  he  declared  war,  not  only  against  Home,  but  also  against 
the  princes,  while  he  despised  the  nobles  among  whom  he  was 
compelled  to  seek  for  allies.  •  I  know  I  shall  be  driven  out  of  the 
land,'  he  says,  *  hut  I  cannot  turn  black  into  white.  No  Turk,  no 
heathen  would  rule  so  oppressively  as  our  princes.  To  overthrow 
them,  the  towns  must  unite  with  the  nobility.*  Hutten's  whole 
life  was  a  bitter  warfare,  and  his  constitution  was,  in  his  youth, 
imdermined  by  the  disease  that  brought  him  to  an  early  grave. 
When  persecuted  by  foes,  and  forsaken  by  his  friends,  he '  addressed 
to  the  whole  body  of  the  German  people '  a  '  Complaint,'  of  which 
the  following  short  passage  may  give  the  purport : — 

Countrymen  I  let  all  unite  to  protect  even  one,  if  that  one  has  done  good 
service  foi^all.  I  might  have  enjoyed  the  favour  of  Rome  at  this  time,  if  I 
had  not  desired  above  all  other  things  the  welfare  of  my  country.  For  this 
I  have  laboured  and  suffered.  For  this  I  have  endured  so  many  misfortunes ; 
long  journeys  by  day  and  night,  so  much  want  and  care,  and  such  shameful 
poverty  ;  and  all  this  in  the  prime  of  my  life— in  the  best,  blooming  years  of 
,  youth  I  Surely  for  all  my  good  intentions  I  have  some  claim  on  your  assist- 
ance. .  .  .  If  r cannot  move  you  by  my  own  case,  betnoved  with  pity  for  my 
friends  and  relatives.  My  poor  and  aged  father  and  mother,  my  younger 
brother,  who  is  in  great  trouble  about  me,  all  my  relatives,  and  many  who  love 
and  respect  me,  besides  sc^veral  learned  men,  and  some  noblemen  ;  all  theaejoin 
in  my  petition.  If  I  have  added  something  to  the  honour  of  our  Fatherlimd  by 
my  writings — if  I  have  endeavoured  to  serve  my  comitry — ^hdp  me  now  I ' 

Hutten's  writings — ^including  those  in  Latin— are  numerous, 
and  are  mostly  directed  against  the  Komish  clergy.  He  gives  a 
summary  of  all  that  had  been  said  by  the  satirists  of  the  preceding 
century.  To  whom  the  blame  must  be  chiefly  ascribed,  is  a 
question  to  be  decided  by  political  and  ecclesiastical  historians, 
but  the  &ct  must  be  admitted,  that  a  great  part  of  the  literature 
of  the  time  immediately  preceding  the  Reformation  is  ftill  of  envy, 
malice,  and  all  uncharitableness.  Warfare  seemed  to  be  the  only 
atmosphere  in  which  men  could  breathe,  and  the  spirit  that  ani* 
mated  many  declamations  against  the  evils  of  society  was  as  bad 
as  the  evila  themselvea     In  a  word,  discontent  and  bad  temper 


VIII.]  LUTHEE,  101 

were  almost  universal,  if  literature  is  to  be  trusted.  The  spirit  of 
Thomas  Mumer  seemed  to  have  diffused  itself  over  the  land.  The 
troubles  that  followed  Luther's  protest  had  been  prepared  before 
his  time.  The  discontent  of  the  people  under  the  rule  of  their 
princesf  and  the  strife  of  the  princes  against  each  other,  and 
against  their  foreign  emperor — the  Spaniard — were  both  ready  to 
break  forth  into  open  violence  and  anarchy,  and  Luther's  words 
were  made  to  serve  as  a  signal. 

Trusting,  as  he  said,  *  in  the  word,'  without  the  sword,  Lather 
burned  the  papal  bull  issued  against  him,  made  his  memorable 
protest  at  Worms,  and  then  found  a  place  of  shelter  in  the  Wart- 
burg,  an  old  castle  near  Eisenach.  Here  he  proceeded  with  his 
translation  of  the  Bible.  He  had  ended  his  labours  on  the  New 
Testament  (1522)  when  his  progress  was  disturbed  by  the 
excesses  of  one  of  his  own  friends,  Andreas  Rudolf  .Bodenstein^- 
commonly  named  Kablstabt.  He  was  professor  of  theology  at 
Wittenberg,  but  also  an  iconoclast  and  a  radical  reformer,  who 
wished  to  go  far  beyond  any  reforms  advocated  by  Luther. 
'  Qo  back  to  your  native  places,*  said  Karlstadt  to  his  pupils,  at 
the  university,  'and  there  learn  some  useful  trades  and  make 
yourselves  good  citizens.  Stay  not  here  to  study,  while  other 
men  are  working  to  support  you.  The  apostle  Paul  worked  with 
his  own  hands.  Go  and  do  likewise.'  The  professor  carried  into 
practice  his  own  teaching ;  put  on  a  white  felt  hat  and  a  smock' 
frock,  and  went  to  work  in  the  fields.  But  it  was  by  his  doc- 
trine that  all  sacred  images  in  churches  should  be  destroyed  that 
Ea^Istadt  especially  offended  Luther.  Their  quarrel  led  to  the 
banishment  of  the  iconoclast. 

Luther  knew  that  his  own  work  of  refonnation  would  be  cen- 
sured for  any  results  that  might  follow  when  the  Peasants'  War 
of  1525  broke  out  The  doctrines  preached  at  an  earlier  period  by 
Friar  Berthold — that  the  poor  shall  inherit  the  earth  and  that  the 
rich  must  surrender  their  wealth — ^had  been  long  remembered ; 
and  it  was  supposed  by  many  that  the  time  had  come  for  reducing 
them  to  practice.  Luther  at  first  advised  the  nobility  to  meet 
the  peasantry  with  liberal  reforms.  'You  must  moderate  your 
despotism,'  said  he,  *  and  submit  to  God's  own  ordinances,  or  you 
will  be  compelled  to  do  so.'  But  when  the  peasants  grew  violent, 
broke  into  convents,  made  themselves  drunk  in  the  cellars,  and 
aet  fire  to  castles  on  the  banks  of  the  Hhine,  Luther  came  forth 


102  OUTLINES  OF  OERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ch. 

ftgainst  thexU;  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  his  denonciation 
was  fatal  to  the  whole  democratic  movement  of  the  time.    If, 
guided  by  a  more  selfish  policy,  he  had  placed  himself  at  the  head 
of  the  peasantry,  he  might  have  easily  triumphed  over  all  his 
own  enemies.     But  he  knew  well  the  truth — confess^  at  last 
by  Miinzer — that '  the  sensual  and  the  dark  rebel  in  vain ; '  that 
men  must  be  free  within  before  they  can  make  a  right  use  of 
external  liberty.    K  Miin;er*s  exploits  had  not  worn  out  the 
patience  of  Luther,  the  anabaptists  must  have  done  it    Dreams 
of  Utopia  prevailed  in  those  times,  and  a  baker  at  Leyden  had  a 
dream.    He  declared  that  he  was  ^  Enoch,'  and  sent  out  twelve 
apostles  to  find  the  new  Jerusalem.    At  Munster  they  enlisted  a 
fanatical  tailor,  and  then  gained  the  patronage  of  the  mayor. 
Envy  and  rapacity,  disguised  by  a   few  abused  texts   picked 
from  the  Bible,  began  the  work  of  reformation  by  '  driving  out 
the  sons  of  Esau,'  and  distributing  their  goods  among  '  the  chil- 
dren of  Jacob,'  in  other  words,  the  anabaptists.     The  destruction 
of  works  of  art,  musical  instruments,  and  libraries  was  sooxi  fol- 
lowed by  the  institution  of  polygamy.    The  tailor — crowned  as 
King  of  Israel — acted  as  the  public  executioner  of  one  of  his  own 
wives,  while  the  people,  assembled  in  the  market-place,  lifted  up 
their  voices  in  the  psalm,  'To  God  on  high  g^ve  thanks  and 
praise.'    The  worst  remains  to  be  told ;  for  the  sincerity  of  the 
anarchical  men  of  Munster  was  very  doubtful.      The  mayor, 
Enipperdolling,  conducted  himself  more  like  a  buffoon  than  an 
enthusiast.    If  the  anabaptists  of  Munster  had  studied  how  to 
make  the  most  disgraceful  caricatures  of  freedom  and  religion, 
they  could  not  have  done  their  work  more  effectually. 
•  The  extreme  notions  of  Karlstadt  and  his  followers,  the  violence 
of  Thomas  Miinzer  and  other  leaders  of  the  peasantry,  and,  lastly, 
the  madness  of  the  anabaptists,  had  all  tended  to  make  Luther 
more  conservative  and  dogmatic — ^if  this  word  may  be  used,  with- 
out ofience,  in  its  true  meaning.    He  fortified  his  own  position  by 
the  strictly-defined  tenets  of  his  two  catechisms  (1529),  and 
denounced  as  departing  too  widely  from  the  letter  of  the  Bible 
the  doctrines  asserted  by  the  Swiss  .reformers.    Ulrich  Zwingli, 
their  leader,  endeavoured  to  maintain  the  democratic  character  of 
the  Information,  and  departed  more  widely  than  Luther  from 
the  teaching  of  the  Church.    The  two  reformers  met  in' 1520, 
but  failed  to  adjust  their  doctrinal  diffeiences. 


Vm.]  LUTHEK.  lOS 

In  fhe  following  year  the  Diet  of  Augsbarg  was  asflembled,  but 
Luther  being  under  imperial  censure  could  not  attend.  If  we 
may  judge  from  a  letter  he  wrote  about  this  time,  he  was  not 
seriously  depressed  by  the  interdict : — 

Here  we  are  sitting  [be  writes],  and  looking  out  of  the  window  on  s 
little  grove,  where  a  nomber  of  crows  and  daws  are  assembled  as  in  a  Diet; 
but  with  such  a  flying  hither  and  thither,  and  croaking  all  day  and  all 
night — ^yoong  and  old  all  chattering  at  once — ^we  wonder  how  their  throats 
can  bear  it. 

The  letter  does  not  conclude  without  some  polemical  bitterness ; 
he  calls  the  crows  '  sophists  and  papists,'  and  prays  ironically  for 
their  salvation.   There  is  more  sweetness  in  a  note  written  by  him 

about  the  same  time  to  his  son  Jolm,  only  four  years  old : — 

• 

I  know  a  pleasant  little  garden,  where  many  children  dressed  in  golden 
frocks  go  in  under  the  trees  and  gather  rosy  apples  and  pears,  cherries  and 
plums,  both  parple  and  yellow,  and  sing  and  dance  and  mtJae  merry,  and  have 
fine  little  horses,  with  golden  reins  and  silver  saddles.  When  I  asked  the 
gardener  who  these  little  children  were,  he  told  me :  '  They  are  children  who 
say  their  prayers,  learn  their  lessons,  and  do  as  they  are  told.'  '  Well,*  said 
I  to  the  roan, '  and  1  have  a  little  boy,  Johnny  Luther,  at  home,  who  would 
like  to  come  here,  to  gather  pears  and  apples,  ride  on  these  fine  little  horses, 
and  play  with  these  children.'  *  Very  well,'  said  the  man, '  if  he  is  obedient 
and  says  his  prayers,  and  learns  well,  he  shall  come,  and  he  may  bring 
Lippus  and  Jost  with  him,  and  they  shall  all  have  fifes  and  drums,  and 
other  kinds  of  music,  and  also  little  cross-bows  to  shoot  with.' 

Luther  published,  in  the  same  year  (1580),  a  translation  of 
'  JSsop's  Fables.'  A  passage  from  the  preface  may  be  noticed  as 
one  of  many  proofs  of  the  reformer's  care  for  the  education  of 
young  people : — 

I  have  undertaken  [he  says]  the  revision  of  this  book,  and  have  dressed 
it  in  a  better  style  than  it  had  before.  In  doing  this,  I  have  especially 
cared  for  young  people,  that  they  may  have  instruction  in  a  form  suitable 
to  their  *age,  which  is  naturally  fond  of  plays  and  fictions ;  and  I  have 
wished  to  gratify  their  taste  without  yielding  indulgence  to  anything  bad. 
I  mention  this,  because  we  have  seen  what  an  objectionable  book  some 
writers  have  made  and  sent  into  the  world,  as  '  the  German  Maop ' — the 
original  fables  mixed  with  scandalous  tales,  for  which  the  authors  ought 
to  be  punished ;  tales  to  be  recited,  not  in  families,  but,  if  anywhere,  in 
the  lowest  taverns.  iBsop  endeavoured  to  introduce  wisdom  under  an  ap- 
pearance of  folly ;  but  his  perverteis  would  sacrifice  his  wisdom  to  their 
own  folly. 

In  1534  the  translation  of  the  Bibib  into  German  was  completed. 
In  this  great  work  Luther*s  aim  was  to  write  so  as  to  be  under- 
stood by  all  the  people,  high  and  low^  learned  and  comparatively 


104  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

illiterate.  He  spared  no  pains ;  but  reviBed  bis  work  again  and 
again — for  the  last  time  in  1545.  Its  success  was  marvelloos, 
but  not  greater  than  it  deserved.  It  was  soon  accepted  as  the 
people's  book,  and  in  1558,  thirty-eight  editions  of  the  whole 
Bible  and  seventy-two  of  the  New  Testament  had  appeared. 
The  efiect  was  as  important  in  general  literature  as  in  theology. 
Luther's  Bible  established  the  New  High  German  language, 
which  has  become  the  medium  of  a  literature  now  spreading  its 
influence  throughout  the  world.  The  carefulness  of  the  translar- 
tion  is  often  disguised  under  an  appearance  of  facility.  '  When  at 
work  upon  the  Book  of  Job/  says  Luther, '  we  sometimes  hardly 
contrived  to  do  three  lines  in  four  days.'  If,  in  this  difficult  sec- 
tion of  his  work  Luther  here  and  th^re  failed,  he  seldom  made  so 
adventurous  a  translation  as  may  be  found  in  the  English  Book 
of  Job  (xzzvi.  83).  Another  merit  is,  that  as  a  churchman 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  read 
medieval  jargon  called  Latin,  he  was,  to  a  remarkable  degree,  free 
from  the  common  error  of  translating  words  instead  of  their  mean- 
ing. He  did  not  always  succeed ;  but  he  tried  hard  to  put  the 
Greek  of  the  Gospels  into  such  words  as  any  German  peasant 
might  understand.  The  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son  may  be 
mentioned  as  one  of  numerous  narrative  passages  faithfully  and 
popularly  rendered,  and  Psalm  civ.  may  be  noticed  as  one  of  many 
examples  of  a  bold  ^nd  clear  trfinslation  ef  poetry.  We  trans- 
late two  or  three  paragraphs  from  the  preface  to  the  Book  of 
Psalms,  where  Luther  can  be  met  on  ground  far  away  from  all 
controversy : — 

The  heart  of  man  Is  like  a  ship  out  on  a  wild  sea,  and  driven  by  storm- 
winds,  blowing  from  all  the  four  quarters  of  the  world  ;  now  impelled  by 
fear  and  care  for  coming  evil ;  now  disturbed  by  vexation  and  grief  for 
present  misfortune ;  now  uiged  along  by  hope  and  a  oonfidence  of  future 
good ;  now  wafted  by  joy  and  contentment.  These  storm-winds  of  the 
soul  teach  us  how  to  speak  in  good  earnest^  to  open  oar  hearts,  and  to 
utter  their  contents.  The  man  actually  in  want  and  fear  does  not  express 
himself  quietly,  like  a  man  at  ease  who  only  talks  about  fear  and  want ; 
a  heart  filled  with  joy  utteis  itself  and  sings  in  a  way  not  to  be  imitated 
by  one  who  is  all  the  time  in  fear;  Mt  does  not  come  from  the  heart,' 
men  say,  when  a  sorrowful  man  tries  to  laugh,  or  a  merry  man  would 
weep.  .  .  .  Now  of  what  does  thi3  Book  of  Psalms  mostly  consist,  but 
of  earnest  expressions  of  the  heart's  emotions — the  storm-winds  as  I  have 
called  them  ?  Where  are  finer  expressions  of  joy  than  the  Psalms  of  praise 
and  thanksgiving?  There  you  look  into  the  liearts  of  the  saints,  as  if  you 
looked  into  a  fair  and  delightful  garden,  aye,  or  into  heaven  itself— And 


vin.]  LirrHEB.  105 

joa  see  how  lovely  and  pleasant  flowers  are  springing  up  there  out  of 
manifold  happy  and  heautiful  thoughts  of  God  and  all  his  mercies.  .  .  . 
But  again,  where  will  you  find  deeper,  more  mournful  and  pitiful  words  of 
sorrow  than  in  the  Psalms  devoted  to  lamentation?  I  conclude,  then, 
that  the  Psalter  is  a  hand-book  for  religious  men,  wherein  everyone,  what- 
ever may  be  his  condition,  may  find  words  that  will  rh3niie  with  it,  and 
paalrns  as  exactly  fitted  to  express  his  wants,  as  if  they  had  been  written 
solely  for  his  benefit. 

In  1636  Luther  prepared  the  articles  of  faith  afterwards  a<>- 
cepted,  first  by  an  assembly  of  divines  at  Schmalkaldy  and  then 
by  the  Lutheran  Church.  ,  He  did  not  live  to  witness  the  mis- 
fortunes of  the  Schmalkald  Alliance,  when  they  took  up  arms 
to  maintain  their  principles.  His  health  had  long  been  failing, 
and  in  1545^  when  he  refused  to  be  judged  by  the  Council  of 
Trent,  he  was  but  a  wreck  of  himself.  Thirty  years  of  very 
hard  work  for  heart  and  brain  had  made  him  long  for  rest. 
Writing  to  a  friend  about  this  time  he  says : — 

As  an  old  man,  worn  out  and  wearr,  cold  and  decayed,  and  with  but 
cne  eye  left,  I  had  hoped  that  I  might  have,  at  last,  a  little  rest;  but 
here  I  am  still  harassed  with  calls  to  write  and  talk,  and  regulate  affairs, 
as  if  1  had  never  written,  spoken,  or  transacted  any  business.  I  am  now 
tired  of  the  world,  and  the  world  is  weary  of  me.  I  would  leave  it  as  a  mnn 
leaves  an  inn  when  he  has  paid  his  reckoning.  So  let  me  have  an  hour's 
grace  before  I  die ;  for  1  want  to  hear  no  more  of  this  world's  affairs. 

To  oblige  his  friend^  he,  however,  took  a  journey  to  Eisleben, 
in  winter,  when  tlie  surrounding  district  was  flooded.  One  of 
the  last  traits  to  fade  from  his  character  was  humour,  as  ma]^  be 
seen  in  a  note  written  at  this  time  to  his  wife :  *  We  arrived  here, 
at  Halle,'  he  says, '  about  eight  o'clock,  but  have  not  ventured  to 
go  on  to  Eisleben,  for  we  have  been  stopped  by  a  great  anabap- 
tist— the  flood — which  has  covered  the  roads  and  threatens  us 
with  immersion,  and  no  mere  sprinkling.'  He  is  near  the  grave 
now,  but  his  humour  is  still  polemical,  though  not  bitter.  He 
died  at  Eisleben  on  February  18,  1546.  'I  was  bom,'  he  says, 
'  to  flght  with  gangs  of  men  and  demons,  and  that  has  made  many 
of  my  books  so  impetuous  and  warlike.  .  .  .  My  shell  may  be 
rather  hard ;  but  the  kernel  is  soft  and  sweet'  HIb  numerous 
writings  —  beside  those  already  named — include  controversial 
tracts  and  sermons,  which  belong  to  Church  History  rather  than 
to  General  Literature,  and  cannot  be  fairly  noticed  here.  Nothing 
could  exceed  the  violence  of  Luther's  tone  of  declamation  ]  but  it 
was  chancteriBtic  of  his  times.    A  disposition  to  seek  and  find 


106     OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.     [Ch. 

in  the  Scriptures,  not  objective  truth^  but  a  confirmation  of  pre- 
conceived opinions,  was  common  to  tbe  theologians  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  They  seldom  dreamed  that  the  true  meaning  of 
the  Scriptures,  to  which  they  so  often  referred,  might  lie  far 
beyond  the  range  of  controversial  exegesis.  It  cannot  be  affirmed 
that  Luther,  in  his  expositions  of  the  Bible,  always  avoided  the 
common  error  of  his  time.  For  examples  of  his  command  of  a 
truly  popular  style  his  series  of  seven  vigorous  '  Sermons  against 
Iniage-breakers '  may  be  noticed.  It  is  obvious  that  the  most 
energetic  passages  of  his  polemical  writings  could  not  be  fairly 
represented  by  any  brief  quotations,  and  this  remark  will  explain 
our  extracts  from  his  less  important  works.  His  numerous  letters 
and  his  *  Table  Talk ' — the  latter  not  always  to  be  trusted — are 
aids  for  an  estimate  of  his  character.  Among  the  several  editicms 
of  his  writings,  that  published  in  twenty-four  volumes  at  Halle 
(1740-51)  may  be  named  as  the  most  complete. 


IX.]  THEOLOGIAKS.  107 


CHAPTEE  IX. 
FO  URTS  PERIOD,    1626-1626. 

THS0LOOTAN8  :  BEBTHOLD  —  ZWINOLI — MATHESIUS — AKHBT— AGBI- 
COLA  —  FBANCK  —  BOHHB  —  HISTOBIAMS  :  TUBIIAIB  —  AN8HELM  — 
TSCHUDI — KESSLEB — BX7LLIN0BB — JLEHMANN — THEOBALD — ABT     A2n> 

scebncb:  ddbeb — fabacelsus. 

• 

The  Prose  Literature' of  these  times  must  appear  poor  to  readers 
ucacquainted  with  the  fact  that,  during  the  Peformation  and 
afterwards^  Latin  was  the  language  of  theologians.  Their  labours 
had  no  connection  with  national  literature,  but  may  be  here  men- 
tioned in  order  to  make  clear  the  statement  that  our  notices  of  a 
few  German  writers  on  theology  do  not  pretend  to  represent 
fably  the  activity  of  the  age  in  this  department  of  study.  As  one 
example  of  the  zeal  and  industry  that  produced  libraries  of  folio 
Tolumes  in  Latin  we  may  name  the  '  Magdeburg  Centuries/  in 
thirteen  volumes  (1559-74).  Its  object  was  to  show  the  agree- 
ment of  the  doctrines  of  the  Keformers  with  the  ancient  autho- 
rities of  the  Church.  The  work  was  first  planned  at  Magdeburg, 
and  was  divided  into  Centuries,  each  occupying  one  volume — 
hence  the  title.  Voluminous  itself,  the  work  called  forth  a  book 
still  more  voluminous,  for  to  refute  its  statements  Baronius  wrote 
his  *  Ecclesiastical  Annals.' 

The  few  theologians  who  wrote  in  German  may  be  here  clas- 
sified with  regard  to  their  respective  views  on  authority,  ortho- 
doxy, and  free  inquiry.  The  principle  of  authority,  as  maintained 
by  the  most  consistent  advocates  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Churchy 
asserts  that  guidance  in  religion  can  be  found  neither  in  systems 
of  doctrine  based  on  the  Scriptures,  nor  in  any  conclusions  de- 
rived from  human  reason.  But,  as  guidance  with  regard  to  both 
faith  and  practice  is  required  by  all  men — ^including  the  most 
illiterate,  and  those  whope  powers  of  inquiry  are  most  restricted — 
it  is  maintained  that  there  must  be  a  fixed  institution  having 


108  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURR  [Ch. 

absolute  authority  in  all  qnestioos  of  leligioxtB  beiief  and  practice. 
Against  these  claims  of  the  Koman  Catholic  Church  Luther  ap- 
pealed to  the  authority  of  doctrines  clearly  stated,  as  he  believed, 
in  the  Scriptures.  Other  theologians  differed  from  him,  either 
with  regard  to  his  choice  of  doctrines  to  be  accepted  as  essential, 
or  with  regard  to  his  interpretation  of  certain  passages  of 
Scripture,  while  they  still  maintained  his  principle  of  founding 
all  authority  on  the  Scriptures.  But  a  third  class  of  writers  arose, 
differing  among  themselyes  on  many  questions,  but  all  agreeing, 
either  in  demanding  more  freedom  than  Lutheran  orthodoxy 
allowed,  or  in  asserting,  with  especial  emphasis,  the  claims  of 
personal  and  spiritual  religion.  These  theologians  of  the  third 
school,  as  we  may  call  them,  were  known  by  many  names,  such  as 
Mystics,  Weigelians,  and — at  a  later  time — Pietists.  They  inr 
claded  men  of  various  opinions,  such  as  Weigel,  Franck,  Amdt, 
an<£  Bohme.  The  names  by  which  they  were  designated — or 
reprobated — must  be,  therefore,  understood  as  having  no  definite 
meaning.  One  of  these  names,  for  example,  was  derived  from 
that  of  Valentin  Weioel,  a  theological  writer  who  died  in  1568; 
but  it  was  applied  to  Johann  Amdt  and  others  who  were  no 
followers  of  Weigel,  and'  also  to  some  wild  fanatics  who  had  no 
connection  whatever  with  either  Weigel  or  Amdt.  Without 
entering  into  any  of  the  details  of  their  controversies,  we  may 
notice  the  leading  writers  of  the  thrcQ  schools  above  described, 
so  far  as  they  are  represented  in  the  German  literature  of  the 
period. 

If  our  notices  of  the  defenders  of  Church  authority  seem  meagre, 
it  is  because  few  Roman  Catholic  divines  of  these  times  wrote  in 
the  German  language.  To  do  justice  to  their  arguments  in  defence 
of  an  absolute  external  authority,  we  should  have  to  refer  to  such 
writers  as  Babontus,  Bsllarmine,  and  Bossitet  ;  but  no  authors 
of  their  stamp  wrote  in  German  during  the  sixteenth  century. 
Johann  Nas  (1634-90),  a  Franciscan,  author  of  *  Six  Centuries 
•of  Evangelical  Truths '  (1669),  was,  in  his  time,  prominent  as  an 
opponent  of  the  Reformation,  but  his  writings  have  little  value, 
lie  was  far  less  successful  than  the  Jesuit,  Petbus  de  Hondt, 
commonly  called  by  his  Latin  name  Canisius  (1621-07),  whose 
efforts  greatly  checked  the  spread  of  Lutheran  doctrine  in  the 
south  of  Germany.    His  Latin  works, — including  '  A  Summary  of 


IX.]  BERTHOLB— ZWINGLI.  109 

Ghriiitiftn  Doctxine'  (1564)  and  a  'Smaller  Gatechiam/ — passed 
through  numerous  editions.  • 

One  of  the  beet  writers  in  German  in  defence  of  the  authority 
of  the  Ghurch  was  Berthold^  bishop  of  Ghiemsee,  who  wrote,  in 
a  plain  style  a  work  entitled  'German  Theology/  which  was 
printed  in  1527.  The  object  of  his  book  was  to  call  back  wan- 
derers from  the  ancient  Ghurch,  and  to  counteract  the  popular 
literature  of  the  Protestants.  Berthold  eays :  '  These  times  have 
made  manifest  that  secret  hatred  of  the  Gatholic  Ghurch  and  its 
clergy  which  has  long  remained  hidden  in  the  hearts  of  un- 
righteous men.'  He  argues  in  the  usual  style  against  all  inno- 
Tntions  of  doctrine,  by  pointing  to  the  variety  of  opinions  found 
in  such  reformers  as  Luther,  Earlstadt,  Zwingli,  and  GScolam- 
padius.  The  practical  and  uncontioveisial  parts  of  the  book  are 
written  in  an  earnest  and  popular  style. 

The  most  important  of  the  earlier  controversies  of  the ,  times 
respecting  orthodoxy  took  place  between  Luther  and  Zwingll,  and 
ended  without  reconciliation  in  1529.  Ulbich  Zwikoli,  bom 
in  14S4,  was  a  man  of  considerable  learning,  and  wrote  clearly  in 
his  own  German  dialect,  but  without  any  great  command  of 
language.  Like  Luther,  he  protested  first  against  the  sale  of  in- 
dulgences, but  soon  proceeded  to  denounce  all  additions  to  doc- 
trines contained  in  the  Bible.  At  two  conferences  held  at  Zurich 
in  1523,  he  defended  so  well  his  sixty-seven  articles  of  belief, 
that  they  were  accepted  as  the  creed  of  the  Reformed  Ghurch  of 
that  canton.  Their  substance  was  published  by  Zwingli  as  his 
'Gonfession  of  Faith'  in  1525.  His  departure  from  Lutheran 
orthodoxy  consisted  in  a  denial  of  the  Real  Presence  in  the 
Eucharist.  Some  well-intended  political  measures  recommended 
by  Zwingli  served  to  hinder  the  spread  of  his  own  doctrines  and 
to  excite  strife  between  the  Gatholic  and  the  Protestant  cantons 
of  Switserland.  War  followed ;  the  men  of  Zurich,  accompanied 
by  their  pastor,  marched  out  to  meet  forces  greatly  superior  to 
their  own,  and  Zwingli  fell  on  the  battle-field  at  Eappel,  on  the 
11th  of  October,  1531.  One  of  his  best  works  is  a  '  Manual  of 
Ghristian  Instruction  for  Young  People.' 

There  were,  even  in  these  times,  some  religious  writers  who 
mostly  avoided  controversy,  and  wrote  of  their  faith  with  regard 
to  its  practical  xesnlts  and  as  united  with  their  own  life  and  ezpe- 


110     OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.     [Ch. 

rience.  Johaitn  Mathbsitts  was  &  popular  preaclier  and  writer, 
who  lived  in  the  midst  of  a  mining  distriot,  and  adapted  his 
ministry  to  the  wants  and  the  characters  of  the  people.  He  wrote 
hjmns  and  songs,  which  the  miners  eang  while  engaged  in  their 
subterraneous  toil ;  and  his  eermons,  which  were  full  of  popular 
anecdotes  and  proverbs,  were  well  adapted  to  the  practical  in- 
terests and  pursuits  of  bis  congregation.  In  one  of  his  discourses, 
entitled  a  *  Sermon  to  Miners '  (published  in  1597),  he  collects  all 
the  passages  in  the  Bible  which  have  any  real  or  supposed 
reference  to  mine3  and  metals,  and  employs  considerable  learning 
and  ingenuity  to  prove  that  miners  were  recognised  in  the  Bible 
as  nn  honourable  class  of  men. 

The  writings  of  Johanit  Arnbt  may  be  classed  with  the  best 
practical  theological  productions  of  this  period.  His  treatise  en- 
titled *  Four  Books  on  True  Christianity,'  which  was  published  in 
1629,  passed  through  many  editions  in  Germany,  and  was  trans- 
lated into  English.  It  is  read  and  esteemed  in  the  present  day. 
Amdt  had  tendencies  in  some  respects  similar  to  those  of  Tauler, 
Franck,  and  other  Mystics ;  but  he  stated  his  sentiments  with 
clearness  and  moderation ;  and  the  pious  and  practical  character  of 
his  book  made  it  a  favourite  among  religious  men  of  various  sects. 
It  served  ais  a  manual  of  devotion  during  the  times  of  warfare  and 
calamity  that  followed  the  Reformation. 

JoHANN  AoRicoLA  (1492-1566)  may  be  named  here,  not  on 
account  of  the  theological  controversies  in  which  he  was  engaged 
vrith  Luther  and  others,  but  as  the  author  of  a  collection  of  pro- 
verbs with  annotations;  which  contain  interesting  notices  of 
popular  manners.  A  far  better  book  of  the  same  kind  was  written 
by  Sebastian  France,  already  named  as  one  of  the  opponents  of 
Luther.  He  was  not  alone  in  demanding  more  freedom  of  inquiry 
than  Lutheran  tenets  allowed.  Such  writers  as  Schwenkfeld, 
Hubmaier,  Denck,  and  Weigel,  aU  agreed  in  their  assertion  of  a 
right  of  private  judgment ;  but  Franck  was  the  clearest  polemical 
writer  of  their  school,  and  was  an  industrious  author  in  other 
departments  besides  theology.  £Qs  religious  principles  agree,  on 
the  whole,  with  those  of  the  '  Society  of  Friends '  in  England,  as 
stated  in  their  '  Apology,'  published  by  Robert  Barclay  in  1676. 
Franck  was  bom  in  1500,  was  expelled  from  both  Niimberg  and 
Strassburg,  on  account  of  his  free  opinions,  and  was  condemned  as 
a  heretic  by  the  conference  at  Schmalkald*    Hl9  afterwards  sup- 


IX.]  FBANCK.  Ill 

ported  himself  by  printing,  as  well  as  writing,  books,  and  died 
about  1545.  Kejecting  the  claims  of  ecclesiastical  authority, 
he  maintained  that  there  is  in  man  an  internal  light,  which  can 
guide   him   aright  in  his  faith.       His  best   works  include  his 

*  Paradoxes '  (1533),  his  *  Collection  of  Proverbs,*  with  comments 
upon  them  (1541),  *A  Chronicle  of  the  German  Nation,'  and  his 

*  World-Book,'  or  *  Manual  of  Universal  History,'  which  was  pub- 
lished in  1534.  Franck  writes  more  calmly  and  more  clearly 
than  many  of  his  contemporaries,  and  is  remarkable  for  his  charity 
towards  the  heathen;  but  he  is  rather  harsh  in  his  condemna- 
tion of  everything  like  ritualism.  Thus,  for  example,  he  con- 
temptuously describes  the  popular  customs  of  his  own  neighbours 
at  Christmas-time : — 

At  this  festive  season  the  men-servants  and  other  young  fellows  go 
through  the  towns  and  villages  in  the  night-time  singing  songs  to  the  people, 
with  the  greatest  h}T>ocrisy,  and  covering  every  householder,  who  can  afford 
to  give  anything,  with  praises  from  the  sole  of  his  foot  to  the  crown  of  his 
head ;  and  thus  these  serenaders  collect  a  good  sum  of  money.  Other  com- 
panies of  singers  travel  through  the  country,  announcing  their  arrival  in 
every  town  by  ringing  a  bell ;  then  they  go  into  the  church,  and  there  sing 
for  the  amusement  of  the  people  :  after  this  they  of  course  make  a  collec- 
tiun,  and  often  return  home  with  a  considerable  booty.  On  the  festival  of 
the  *  Three  Kings,'  every  householder  makes  cakes  and  sweetmeats ;  a 
penny  is  kneaded  in  with  the  dough,  \rhich  is  divided  into  cakes  according 
to  the  number  of  the  family.  One  cake  is  presented  to  the  Virgin  Mary, 
and  each  of  the  Three  Kings  has  his  cake ;  but  the  child  who  receives  the 
coke  containing  the  penny  is  styled  the  *  King,'  and  is  then  lifted  up  on  the 
should^  of  the  family.  When  he  is  lifted,  he  takes  a  piece  of  chalk  and 
^  makes  a  cross  on  the  ceiling,  or  on  one  of  the  beams,  and  this  cross  is  re- 

*'  garded  as  a  grand  preservative  against  ghosts  and  misfortunes  for  the  tol- 

lowing  year.  During  the  twelve  days  between  Christmas  and  the  Festival 
of  the  Three  Kings,  the  people  bum  incense  in  their  houses  as  a  charm  to 
drive  away  all  evil  spirits  and  witchcraft. 

It  is  one  great  characteristic  of  the  Mystics  that  they  neyer 
tolerate  two  distinct  forms  of  religious  teaching :  one  symbolical; 
founded  on  external  authority,  and  professing  to  be  adapted  to 
the  moral  condition  of  the  majority  of  men ;  the  other  based  on 
private  feelings  and  convictions.  The  latter  ib  the  only  religion 
which  Franck  allows  to  be  worthy  of  the  name. 

In  the  above  notices  of  several  wjriters  on  theology  who  have 
been  classed  with  Mystics^  with  regard  to  their  principle  of 
reference  to  an  inner  light,  as  a  source  of  instruction  in  religion^ 
it  18  by  no  means  implied  that  aU  held  exactly  the  same  opinions ; 


112  .  ^      OUTLINES  OF  0EEMAN  LITEBATURE.  [Ch. 

but  any  attempt  to  point  out  their  minor  differences  would  exceed 
our  limits.  We  have  still  to  notice  the  most  original  of  all  the 
German  Mystics — a  man  whose  biography  and  writings  are  alike 
remarkable. 

Jacob  Bohme — sometimes  called  Behmen— the  son  of  a  pea- 
sant, was  bom  in  1575,  at  the  village  of  Altseidenberg,  near  the 
old  town  of  Qorlitz  in  Silesia.  He  was  left  in  boyhood  almost 
without  education,  and  was  employed  in  tending  cattle  in  the 
fields  near  his  native  place.  He  tells  us  how  when  a  boy,  he  used 
to  climb  the  Landskrone — a  solitary  hill  of  granite  that  overlooks 
the  plain,  the  river,  and  the  old  church  towers  of  Gorlitz — and  it 
was  here,  probably,  that  the  love  of  nature  so  often  expressed  in 
his  writings  was  first  awakened. 

After  serving  his  time  as  apprentice  and  joume3rman,  he  settled 
as  a  shoemaker  in  Gorlitz,  married  and  lived  obscurely  in  a  cot- 
tage near  the  bridge  over  the  Neisse.  Here  he  gained  some  edu- 
cntion,  and  especially  made  himself  well  acquainted  veith  the 
Bible.  During  his  travels  as  a  journeyman  shoemaker  seeking 
work  in  several  towns,  he  had  heard  much  of  the  religious  contro- 
versies of  the  times,  especially  of  that  between  Lutherans  and 
Calvinists.  His  enlightenment,  he  tells  us,  was  preceded  by  a 
time  of  doubt  and  depression  induced  by  his  endeavours  to  solve 
hard  questions  respecting  Providence  and  the  destinies  of  men. 
He  had  read,  it  appears,  some  parts  of  the  writings  of  Weigel  and 
Paracelsus,  when  he  began  to  write  the  chapters  afterw^s  col- 
lected in  his  first  book,  entitled  '  Aurora,'  which  was  printed  in 
1612.  It  contained  many  passages  likely  to  be  misunderstood, 
and  its  publication  gave  great  offence  to  Gregorius  Hichter^  piwtor 
of  Gorlitz,  who  accepted  as  strictly  literal  several  of  Bohme's  most 
figurative  expressions.  In  obedience  to  his  pastor,  Bohme  pro- 
'  mised  that  he  would  abstain  from  writing  on  theology,  and  this 
promise  was  well  kept  for  about  seven  years.  He  was  encouraged 
by  several  friends  to  begin  writing  again  in  1619,  and  produced 
after  that  time  several  mystic  works,  including  a  tract,  *  On  the 
Threefold-  Life  of  Man ;  *  Replies  to  *  Forty  Questions  respecting 
the  Soul ; '  a  tract  entitled  '  De  Signatura  Kerum ; '  and  the  '  Mys- 
terium  Magnum,'-  containing* an  exposition  of  the  Book  of  Genesis. 
During  the  last  four  or  five  years  of  his  life  (1619-24)  Bohme 
gave  up  making  shoes^  and  was  mostly  supported  by  the  sale  of 
his  books,  and  by  gifts  firom  several  kind  fnends  who  believed  in 


IX.]  BOHJttB.  118 

his  teadkiog.  Hie  six  tracts,  ooUeetively  entitled  '  The  Way  to 
Chrbt/  contain  the  clearest  statements  of  his  practical  doctrine ; 
bat  in  one  of  them  his  mysticism  was  so  stated  as  again  to  give 
great  offence  to  the  pastor  of  Gorlitz.  To  escape  persecution, 
Bohme  now  submitted  himself,  for  an  examination  of  his  doctrines, 
to  a  jury  of  four  divines  at  Dresden,  who  were  assisted  by  two 
scientific  laymen.  When  he  had  replied  to  many  questions,  one 
of  the  theologians  said,  '  I  would  not  for  the  world  condenm  this 
man ; '  and  another  added,  <  I  will  neither  condenm  nor  approve 
what  I  do  not  understand.'  The  trial  had  been  very  kindly  con- 
ducted ;  but  the  excitement  attending  ^  and  the  previous  perse- 
cution had  injured  Bohme's  health.  After  the  conference  at 
Dresden  he  paid  a  visit  to  one  of  his  friends  in  Silesia,  but  soon 
returned  to  Gorlitz,  where  he  died  quietly  on  Sunday,  November  18, 
1624.  His  last  words  were,  *  Now  I  go  to  Paradise.'  The  clergy 
of  Gorlitz  refused  his  remains  Christian  burial  until  it  was  com- 
ULfrnded  by  the  civil  authority.  The  rector  then  excused  himself 
on  account  of  illness,  and  his  deputy  began  the  service  by  express- 
ing a  wish  that  he  had  been  twenty  miles  away  from  the  town. 
It  is  noticeable  that  the  son  of  the  pastor  of  Gorlitz  became  ond 
of  Bohme's  disciples.  Jacob  Bohme  was  a  man  of  low  stature, 
with  a  forehead  low  and  rather  broad,  a  nose  slightly  aquiline, 
clear  blue-grey  eyes,  and  a  soft  and  pleasant  voice.  His  life  was. 
free  from  reproach,  and  his  manners  were  gentle  and  modest. 
His  writings  are  by  no  means  all  alike,  but  include  mystic  and 
partly  controversial  expositions  of  some  parts  of  the  Bible— espe- 
cially the  Book  of  Genesis — some  devotional  and  practical  tracts, 
and  speculations  on  the  most  difficult  questions  of  religion  and 
philosophy — such  as  belong  to  theories  of  creation,  of  the  freedom 
of  the  will  and  of  the  origin  of  evil.  The  writings  of  his  later 
years  (1619-24)  are  less  imaginative  but  clearer  than  the  '  Aurora,' 
which  has  been  erroneously  described  as  his  chief  work. 

The  earliest  complete  edition  of  Bohme's  writings  was  published 
at  Amsterdam  in  1682.  The  editor,  Gichtel,  it  may  be  observed, 
held  some  doctrines  never  taught  by  Bohme.  The  latest  complete 
edition  was  edited  by  Schiebler  in  1831-46.  Among  the  trans- 
lators  and  expositors  of  Bohme  we  may  name  William  Law,  author 
of  a  well-known  book,  the  '  Serious  Call  to  a  Devout  Life ;'  Franz 
Baader,  a  German  Catholic,  and  the  so-called  '  unknown  philo- 
sopher/ Louis  Claude  de  Saint-Martin. 

•       I 


114  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

It  is  impossible  to  give  here  any  fair  account  of  the  more  ab- 
struse speculations  of  Bohme.  A  short  passage  from  one  of  his 
tracts  may  show  how  far  he  differed  from  many  writers  of  his 
times  with  regard  to  the  doctrine  of  religious  toleration : — 

As  the  earth  expresses  her  virtues  in  many  flowers,  so  the  Creator  displays 
his  wisdom  and  his  marvellous  works  in  his  children.  If,  aa  lowly  children 
and  guided  by  a  Christian  spirit,  we  could  dwell  together,  each  rejoicing  in 
the  gifts  and  talents  possessed  by  others,  who  would  condemn  us  ? — Who 
condemns  the  birds  in  the  wood  when  they  all  praise  their  Lord,  while  each, 
in  its  own  mode,  sings  as  its  nature  bids  ? — Does  i  Hvino  Wisdom  condemn 
them  because  they  do  not  all  sing  in  unison  ?  No ;  for  all  their  voices  are 
gifts  from  One,  in  whose  presence  they  are  all  singing.  The  men  who,  with 
regard  to  their  knowledge — e^ecially  in  theology — quarrel  and  despise  one 
another,  are  inferior,  in  this  respect,  to  the  birds  of  the  wood  and  to  other 
wild  creatures ;  such  men  are  more  useless  than  the  quiet  flowers  of  the 
field,  which  allow  their  Creator's  wisdom  and  power  to  display  themselves 
freely ;  such  men  are  worse  than  thorns  and  thistles  among  fair  flowers ;  for 
thorns  and  thistles  can,  at  least,  be  still. 

It  would  be  easy  to  quote  from  Bob  me  many  passages  that  might 
seem  either  absurd  or  destitute  of  meaning.  As  he  often  says — 
especially  with  regard  to  his  first  book — he  finds  great  difficulty  in 

"expressing  his  thoughts,  and  he  fears  lest  he  should  be  misunder- 
stood. His  most  comprehensive  ideas  belong  to  speculative  theo- 
logy,  and  can  hardly  be  given,  at  once,  truly  and  concisely.  Shelling's 
later  doctrines  were  partly  borrowed  from  the  shoemaker  of 
Gorlitz,  who  was  neither  a  deist  nor  a  pantheist.  The  assertion 
that  he  represented  the  Absolute  Being  as  becoming  self-K;ouscious 
only  in  man  will  be  found  erroneou3  by  those  who  will  refer  to 
Bohme*s  own  words.  All  his  teaching  'is  based  on  one  theeds — 
made  known  to  him,  he  says,  by  'enlightenment'— that  the 
Divine  Nature  is  Triune,  and  reveals  itself  throughout  creation 
and  in  the  soul  of  man.  The  simple  Deism  of  Islam  was  for 
Bobme  not  only  erroneous  but  inconceivable.  Pope's  lines  in  the 
'  Essay  on  Man/  already  quoted  on  page  64,  accord  well  with  a 
part — ^but  only  with  a  part-^f  Bohme's  theory  of  creation.  To 
give  his  views  of  nature  would  far  exceed  our  limits.  In  one 
part  of  his  theory  he  states  that  through  man's  freedom  evil 
was   introduced,    and    this    clearly  distinguishes    his    teaching 

■from  both  optimism  and  pantheism.  A  few  sentences  given, 
for  the  sake  of  brevity,  sometimes  in  our  own  words,  may  con- 
vey some  notions  of  Bohme^s  religious  doctrine : — ^Man,  he  says, 
is  created  in  God's  image,  and  haS|  therefore,  a  capacity  for 


rx.]  bOhme.  116 

TboeiTUig  divine  knowledge.  But  all  outward  means  of  instruc- 
tion are  vain,  without  the  shining  forth  of  an  inner  light,  not 
extinguished,  but  overcast  as  with  a  cloud  in  the  soul  of  man. 
His  darkness  is  the  result  of  his  own  self-will,  which  contains  in 
itself  both  the  origin  and  the  essence  of  evil.  Its  most  common 
forms  of  manifestation  are  pride,  greed,  envy,  and  hate.  But  man 
is  a  union  of  body  and  soul,  and  Boh  me  never  speaks  of  the  soul 
as.  an  abstraction.  Moral  evil,  therefore,  expresses  itseK  in  natural 
defects.  Man's  sin  has  debsised  not  only  his  own  physical  nature, 
but  that  of  the  world  that  belongs  to  him.  When  man  becomes 
disobedient  to  God,  the  earth  becomes  disobedient  to  man. 
Bohme  calls  self-will,  especially  in  the  form  of  pride,  *  Lucifer,' 
and  writes  of  him  sometimes  as  if  using  personification ;  but,  at 
other  times,  he  speaks  of  Lucifer  as  Ihe  first  transgressor. .  The 
'  fall,*  however,  which  men  deplore  is  the  result  of  their  own  will. 
The  greatest  of  all  the  gifts  bestowed  by  the  Creator  on  his  crea- 
tures is  freedom,  and  its  right  use  is  a  free  obedience  rendered  to 
the  will  of  the  Giver.  But  self-will  has  made  a  perversion  of 
the  highest  possible  good.  As  the  root  of  a  thoiTi  makes  only 
thorns  out  of  the  light  and  warmth  by  which  roses  bloom,  so 
self-will  has  converted  good  into  evil.  But  evil  is  not  to  prevail. 
It  must  be  finally  transmuted  into  good ;  meanwhile  it  serves  to 
develope  the  energies  of  Divine  Love.  Man's  deepest  misery  calls 
foi-th  the  highest  expression  of  mercy.  A  second  Adam  appeal's 
and  reyeraes  the  whole  of  the  process  instituted  by  the  first.  The 
first  asserts  his  own  will  and  forfeits  Paradise;  the  second  resigns 
his  will,  his  soul,  his  life ;  and  so  returns  into  Paradise,  leading 
with  him  all  who  will  follow  him.  No  man  is  •  unconditionally 
reprobated,  and  none  will  be  finally  condemned,  except  it  be  by 
himself.  The  gates  of  heaven  are  everywhere,  and  stand  always 
open  for  all.  What  remains  of  good  in  a  man  may  be  but  a  spark, 
but  may  be  kindled  to  a  flame  that  will  bum  up  all  his  sins.  A 
prayer  may  be  but  a  faint  sigh,  yet  the  Omnipotent  cannot  resist 
it,  because  He  has  no  will  to  resist  it. 

A  few  more  sentences  will  suffice  for  Bohme's  views  on  the 
external  Churches  and  creeds  of  his  time : — Religion,  he  says,  is 
confined  neither  to  history  nor  to  any  churches  built  of  stone;  but 
he  by  no  means  defends  a  neglect  of  public  worship.  We  must 
remember  the  controversies  of  his  times,  if  we  find  his  remarks  on 
them  too  severe.     'Christendom  in  Babel,'  he  says,  'quarrels 

13 


116  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  UTERATUBE.  [Oh. 

about  theological  science.  .  .  .  The  purport  of  the  Christian  reli- 
gion is  to  teach  us  what  we  are,  whence  we  come,  how  we  have 
come  out  of  union  into  disunion,  and  how  we  magr  go  back  out  of 
disunion  into  union.'  Under  all  or  any  of  our  forms  and  opinions, 
the  four  sins — ^pride,  greed,  envy,  and  hate — may  be  hiding 
themselves.  .  .  .  Bohme's  views  of  the  heathen  differed  widely 
from  those  of  his  contemporaries.  He  maintained  that  Jews, 
Turks,  and  infidels  might  be  saved,  and  that  the  old  heathens — 
meaning  especially  the  Greeks — had  divine  teaching  imparted  to 
them.  Though,  in  their  error,  they  adored  the  stars,  they  were 
nearer  the  truth  than  some  of  the  schoolmen  who  called  them- 
selves Christians.  There  is  no  elect  nation.  In  aU  lands  men 
have  sought  for  divine  guidance,  and  have  found  it ;  for  '  the  door 
is  opened  to  everyone  who  knocks.' 

The  passages  above  given  in  a  condensed  form  must  fall  to 
convey  the  full  purport  of  Bohme's  more  comprehensive  thoughts. 
'Light  and  fire,'  he  says,  ai'e  not  mofe  distinct  than  his  own 
doctrine  is  from  the  false  interpretation  of  men  who  would  think 
lightly  of  moral  evil.  He  writes  of  it  in  words  that  approach 
near  to  Manichaeism,  and  yet  he  describes  it  as  a  condition — 
sine  qtid  non — of  the  development  of  freedom,  and  as  an  oppo- 
sition that  makes  spiritual  life  more  vigorous.  One  of  his  more 
concise  passages  on  this  subject  may  be  found  at  the  close  of 
a  tract  on  'Spiritual  Life,'  which  is  written  in  the  form  of  a 
dialogue  between  a  disciple  and  his  master.  The  former  asks^ 
'  Why  has  the  Creator  allowed  such  a  contest  as  we  see  between 
good  aud  evil  P  '  and  the  master  replies  as  follows : — '  He  has 
allowed  it  that,  through  all  the  oppositions  of  love  and  anger, 
light  and  darkness,  his  own  eternal  dominion  may  be  made  mani- 
fest and  be  freely  recognised  by  alL  .  .  .  The  strife  and  the  pain 
endured  by  the  good  in  their  time  of  trial  will  be  transmuted  into 
great  joy.  .  .  .  The  pain  and  the  separation  of  finite  life  exist  that 
there  may  be  an  eternal  joy  in  overcoming.' 

The  theological  and  eccle^siastical  controversy  of  the  sixteenth 
century  has  a  permanent  interest,  though  some  of  the  arguments 
employed  by  the  contending  parties  have  become  obsolete. 
Authority,  orthodoxy,  and  free  thought  were  set  in  opposition  to 
each  other.  A  child  is  made  subject  to  an  external  authority, 
because  his  own  duties  and  interests  are  unknown  by  him,  and 
must  be  impressed  upon  him  from  without.    It  is  assumed  by  the 


K.]  HISTORIANS  :—TTTEMAIB.  .    117 

advocates  of  an  absolute  external  authority,  that  the  majority  of 
men  must,  with  regard  to  religion,  remain  in  a  state  of  tutel%e. 
Bat,  say  the  advocates  of  freedom,  when  the  child  arrives  at  a 
mature  age,  he  rejects  the  external  authority,  and  this  rejection  is 
not  a  negation ;  for  he  has  now  accepted  the  teaching,  and  has 
made  it  his  own ;  so  that  an  internal  law  has  become  a  substitute 
for  the  external.  The  reply  is  obvious:  a  people,  still  in  their 
minority,  may  reject  authority,  may  assert  a  negative  instead  of  a 
true  freedom,  and  their  errors  may  afford  arguments  for  those  who 
contend  for  absolutism.  Such  are  the  outlines  of  the  controversy 
as  it  still  remains ;  but  since  the  events  of  1864  and  1870 — ^the 
encyclical  with  the  syllabus  and  the  decree  of  individual  infalli- 
bility— the  arguments  formerly  employed  have  become  useless. 
The  society  founded  in  1540  to  oppose  the  Reformation  has  become 
predominant  in  Home;  the  principle  of  absolutism  has  been 
asserted  in  its  most  concrete  form,  and  the  questions  formerly 
discussed  between  Catholics  and  Protestants  have  been  reduced  to 
one  question  of  fact.  Arguments  founded  either  on  the  Scriptures 
or  on  the  tradition  of  the  Church  have  been  set  aside,  and  appeals 
to  reason  are  met  by  demanding  '  a  sacrifice  of  the  intellect.'  On 
one  side  the  forces  are  becoming  more  and  more  concentrated ;  on 
the  other  they  are  still  greatly  divided.  It  cannot  be  doubted,  that 
here  we  have  the  elements  of  a  movement  greater  than  that  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  and  once  more  Germany  is  destined  to  be  the 

.  centre  of  the  controversy. 

Ajnong  the  historical  writers  of  the  Lutheran  period,  one  of  the 
best  was  JonAi^N    TxmMAni,  who  called  himself  Aventinits 

.  (1477-1534).  He  wrote  at  first  in  Latin,  and  afterwards  in 
German,  a  'Chronicle  of  Bavaria'  (1533),  noticeable  for  its 
patriotic  tone.  A  *  Chronicle  of  Berne '  (1032-1626),  written  by 
Valeritts  Anshelm,  who  died  in  1540;  the  'Helvetian  Chro- 
nicle,' written  ty  Abgimtts  Tschttdi  (1505-1572) ;  a  'History  of 
the  Reformation  in  Switzerland,'  written  by  Johakw  Kbssleb,  of 
St.  (fallen  (1502-1574) ;  and  a  '  History  of  the  Reformation,'  by 
Heinbich  Bullikger  (1504-1575),  the  friend  and  successor  of 
Zwingli,  may  be  named  among  valuable  contributions  to  the 
history  of  Switzerland.  Christopit  Lehmanw  (1568-1638) 
wrote  a  'Chronicle  of  the  Free  Town*Speier'  (1612),  which 
contains  some  disquisitions  on  the  respective  merits  of  monarchy, 
aristocracy,  and  democracy.    The  writer's  conclusion  is  very  safe. 


118      ,      OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUEB.  [Oh. 

'  That/  says  he,  '  is  the  best  govennnent  where  the  best  men  hare 
authority.'  A  history  of  *  The  HussitQ  War/  written  by  Zacha- 
RiAS  Theobald  (1584-1627),  is  remarkable  for  its  graphic  ao 
count  of  the  death  of  John  Huss.  The  scene  seemq  to  be  described 
by  an  eye-witness,  and  is  brought  before  us  with  a  painful 
reality  :— 

Cheerfully,  and  showing  no  sign  of  fear,  he  walked  up  to  the  stake  fas* 
tened  in  the  earth,  to  whieh  the  executioner  tied  him  fast  with  six  cords, 
but  with  his  face  to  the  east,  instead  of  to  the^est,  as  it  should  be  done 
with  a  heretic.  Then  they  cast  an  old  rusty  .chain  over  his  neck,  as  if  he 
were  not  worthy  of  a  new  one,  and  he  said :  '  Christ  was  bound  with  a 
heavier  chain  for  my  sins  and,  therefore,  I  am  not  ashamed  to  be  boobd  with 
this  old  ru^ty  chain.'  They  now.  placed  under  his  feet — on  which  he  still 
wore  his  boots  with  his  fetters — two  bundles  of  brushwood,  and  all  about 
him  piled  plenty  of  wood,  straw  and  brushwood  up  to  his  neck.  Before 
they  set  fire  to  the  pile,  the  duke  Ludwig  von  Baiern  and  the  Marshal  rode 
up  to  Huss  and  advised  him  to  renounce  his  errors,  as  they  called  them ; 
but  he  replied, '  I  call  God  to  witness  that  I  have  not  taught  the  things  laid 
to  my  charge  by  false  evidence,  but,  in  my  preaching,  teaching,  and  writing, 
have  striven  to  turn  people  from  their  sins  and  to  lead  them  to  the  kingdom 
of  fieaven.  And  the  truth  which  I  have  taught,  preached,  written,  and 
spread  abroad,  as  according  to  God's  word,  I  will  still  maintain,  and  alw 
seal  with  my  death.'  When  they  heard  this  they  clasped  their  hands,  and 
rode  away.  The  executioners  immediately  kindled  the  pile,  and  it  burned 
up  quickly,  for  they  had  laid  plenty  of  straw  among  the  wood.  Then 
Master  John  Huss,  as  he  saw  the  smoke  rising,  cried  out,  with  a  clear  voice, 
*  Christ,  thou  Son  of  God,  have  mercy  upon  me ! '  But  when  he  would  have 
said  it  the  third  time,  the  flame,  flapping  under  his  face,  took  his  breatli 
away,  so  that  he  could  not  finish  with  '  have  mercy  upon  me,'  bnt  continued 
praying  and  nodding  his  head,  as  long  as  one  might  say  a  paternoster,  and 
then  died. 

Albrbcht  Duber,  the  greatest  German  artist  of  his  time  (1470- 
1528),  employed  his  native  language  in  his  treatises;  one  on  the 
rules  of  perspective,  the  other  on  '  The  Proportions  of  the  Human 
Figure.'  In  the  latter  he  insists  on  a  careful  study  of  nature. 
Diirer's  letters  are  interesting,  and  show  that  he  was  a  friend  to 
the  Keformation.  In  one  of  them  he  expresses  hh  regret  when 
he  hears  a  false  report  ihat  Luther  has  been  made  a  prisoner,  but 
he  trusts  'that  Erasmus  will  now  proceed  with  the  work' — a 
strange  mistake  of  the  character  of  Erasmus. 

The  physical  sciences— especially  chemistry  and  medicine— had 
one  representative  in  the  literature  of  this  period.  Theophrastus 
VON  HoHENHSiH,  commonly  known  as  Paracelsus,  who  was 
bom  near  Appenzell  in  1493.  He  was  the  first  professor  who 
gave  lectures  ou  science  in  the  German  language.    His  Latin  was 


IX.]  PAKACEI^US.  119 

too  barbarous  to  be  tolerated,  and  be  introduced  into  scientific 
discussions  all  the  violence  and  intolerance  of  theological  contro- 
Tersy.  He  began  one  course  of  lectures  by  publicly  burning  the 
-works  of  Galen  and  Avicenna.  '  If  any  man  wants  to  leftrh  the 
truth/  said  Paracelsus,  '  he  must  submit  to  my  monarchy.  All 
the  learned  schools  together  do  not  understand  Tts  much  of  medi- 
cine as  my  beard  does.'  He  was — however  boastful — ^a  reformer  in 
chemistry,  and  his  search  for  active  principles  indicated  the  road 
that  led  to  the  discovery  of  such  medicines  as  morphia  and 
quinine.  After  a  restless,  wandering  life  of  alternating  popularity 
and  ignominy^  Paracelsus  died  in  the  hospital  at  Salzburg  in 
1641. 


120  OUTLINES  OF  GBBMAN  IJXEEATURE.  [Ch. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FOURTH  PERIOD,    1625-1626. 

LUTHERAN  HTMNS — HAITS  SACHS — ^VALKMTIM  ANDHEA — BIKOWALDT — 

TI-ALDIfr— ALBEBUS  — BOLLENHAGEN  — SFANOENBBBG FISCHABT — THE 

DBAMA — MANUEL — BBBHUHN — 'THE    ENGLISH     COMEDIANS  ' — HEIN- 
BICH  JULIUS— FAUST — ^YTBIDMANN — WICKBAM. 

The  best  lyrical  poetry  of  the  period  was  devoted  to  the  services 
of  the  Church.  In  older  times  the  part  which  the  people  had 
taken  in  Church  music  had  been  confined  to  a  few  short  responses; 
but  Luther,  who  loved  psalmody^  encouraged  the  congregations  to 
take  a  more  prominent  part  in  the  public  worship  of  God,  and 
wrote  for  them  hymns  and  psalms  well  suited  to  become  popular. 
His  first  Hymn  Book  (1624)  contained  only  eight  hymns,  but  the 
number  was  increased  to  sixty-three  in  the  fourth  edition,  to 
which  Jonas,  Spengler,  Eber  and  others  were  contributors,  while 
the  collection,  printed  in  1645,  contained  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  hynms  and  psalms,  of  which  thirty-seven  are  ascribed  to 
Ijuther.    His  bold  and  stirring  psalm — '  Ein'  feste  Burg  ist  unser 

Gott  '— 

A  safe  stronghold  oar  God  is  still, 
A  trusty  shield  and  weapon ! — 

is  well  known,  but  can  hardly  be  with  justice  translated.  This 
may,  indeed,  be  said  of  many  other  popular  hymns  written  by 
Luther  and  bis  friends.  Th^ir  merit  does  not  consist  merely  in 
the  sentiments  they  convey,  but  rather  in  the  union  of  style  and 
purport ;  in  the  force,  directness,  and  euphony  of  language ;  and 
also  in  the  music  of  their  rhymes,  for  which  we  could  find  no 
equivalents  in  English.  As  Dr.  Vilmar  has  said,  *  These  hymns, 
like  our  secular  popular  songs,  were  not  composed  to  be  read,  but 
to  be  sung )  and  so  closely  is  their  melody  inwoven  with  their 


X.]  LUTHEILOT  HYMNS.  121 

me&ning,  that  if  we  would  judge  them  fairly,  we  must  have  their 
spirit)  their  metre,  and  their  music  given  at  once,  as  wh«n  they 
are  iung  by  the  congregation.  They  were  indeed  the  sacred 
popular  songs  of  the  Lutheran  times,  and  were  founded  in«many 
instances  on  secular  melodies  dear  to  the  people  from  old  remem- 
brance. Thus  we  account  for  their  rapid  and  marvellous  efiect  in 
spreading  the  Lutheran  faith.  A  hymn  in  these  times  was 
scarcely  composed  before  its  echoes  were  heard  in  every  street. 
The  people  crowded  around  the  itinerant  singer  (who  now,  in 
accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  times,  sang  Luther's  hymns 
instead  of  ballads),  and  as  soon  as  they  heard  a  new  hymn  sung 
once,  they  would  heartily  take  up  the  last  verse  as  a  chorus. 
Thus  these  sacred  melodies  found  their  way  into  churches  and 
private  houses;  and  whole  towns  were  won  over  to  the  new 
faith  by  the  sound  of  a  hymn.  Such  lyrics  as  those  of  Luther — 
**  Rejoice,  my  Brother  Christians  all  I "  and  "  From  depths  of  woe 
to  Thee  I  call !  "  or  that  by  Paul  Sfsratus,  '*  Salvation  now  has 
come  for  all  I  "  or  that  by  Nicolatts  Decitts,  "  To  God  on  high 
be  thanlis  and  praise  ! " — ^flew,  as  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  from 
one  side  of  Germany  to  another :  they  were  not  read  merely,  put, 
in  the  strongest  sense  of  the  words,  were  learned  by  heart;  and 
so  deeply  printed  in  the  memories  and  affections  of  the  people,  that 
their  impression  remains  in  the  present  day.' 

To  the  names  already  mentioned,  as  representatives  of  many 
writers  of  Lutheran  hymns,  we  may  add  those  of  Nielab  Hebhakk, 
who  died  in  1561,  Nicolaitb  SEXiNBCKBR  (1630-92),  author  of  the 
well-known  hymn,  *Ah,  stay  vrith  us,  Lord  Jesu  Christ/  and 
Philipp  Nicolai  (1656-69),  who  wrote  two  hymns  that  have 
long  remained  favourites,  '  How  brightly  shines  the  Morning  Star  I ' 
and  '  Sleepers,  wake  I  a  voice  is  calling,'  the  latter  well  known  in 
England  since  its  introduction  by  Mendelssohn  in  the  oratorio  of 
'  St.  Paul.'  Several  of  the  writers  of  Lutheran  hymns  composed  or 
arranged  the  tunes  to  which  their  hymns  were  sung,  and  these  tunes 
were  in  some  instances  suggested  by  popular  melodies.  They  had, 
therefore,  a  natural,  varied,  and  popular  rhythm,  and  were  by  no 
means  like  the  slow  tunes  stretched  out,  mostly  in  common  time, 
and  in  notes  of  equal  length,  for  the  use  of  both  German  and 
English  congregations.  For  the  musical  expression  of  simple 
thoughts  the  hymn-writers,  like  John  Knox,  the  great  Scotch  re- 
former, could  find  no  better  models  than  the  secular  songs  of  their 


122  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

times  supplied.  Several  of  the  Lutheran  tane.<)y  with  their  original 
and  varied  rhythm  preserved^  may  be  found  in  a  collection  edited 
by  Dr.  Layriz  (2nd  ed.,  1849)  under  the  title  Kern  des  detdichen 
Kirckmigesanges,  Other  forms  of  the  same  old  melodies^  gi'^'&tly 
changed  by  several  editors,  and  mostly  reduced  to  notes  of  equal 
length,  are  found  in  modern  Qerman  and  English  books  of  psal- 
mody. In  some  instances  the  old  tunes  can  hardly  be  recognised 
when  reduced  to  notes  of  equal  length,  on  the  model  of  the 
modem  'Old  Hundredth  Psalm.'  In  this  style  they  are  given  in 
a  Qerman  collection  edited  by  Dr.  Filitz.  The  apology  offered 
for  this  treatment  of  the  old  melodies  is  the  statement  that  it  is 
found  suitable  for  the  \ise  of  large  congregations.  During  the 
seventeenth  century  the  tunes,  as  given  by  Dr.  Layriz,  were  sung 
in  four  parts  by  some  congregations  in  Germany,  but  such  per- 
formances must  have  required  the  aid  of  zealous  and  efficient 
choir-masters,  and  could  never  be  made  general. 

Among  the  tunes  ascribed  to  Luther  the  melody  of  hL««  well- 
]<nown  psalm,  above  named,  and  another  adapted  to  the  hymn, 
Wir  glduben  aU  an  emen  Goit,  are  probably  genuine ;  but  the  '  Old 
Hundredth,'  often  falsely  ascribed  to  Luther,  is  found  in  a  French 
book  of  psalmody  edited  by  Goudimel  in  1562.  The  tune  ol 
'Luther's  Hymn/  often  sung  in  English  churches  and  chapels, 
was  probably,  at  first,  a  secular  melody,  and,  in  a  collection 
printed  in  1535,  and  edited  by  Klug,  was  adapted  to  a  hymn 
on  the  second  advent.  The  influence  of  these  Lutheran  hymns 
did  not  soon  pass  away.  During  the  dreary  time  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  though  a  great  improvement  in  versification 
then  took  place,  the  hymns  written  for  the  service  of  the  Cturch 
were  almost  the  only  productions  that  deserved  the  name  of 
poetry. 

The  lyrical  poetry  of  the  Lutheran  time  may  be  connected  witik 
that  of  the  next  period  by  the  name  of  George  Rudole  Weck- 
HEBLiir  (1584-1651)  who  wrote  verse  in  a  style  so  far  improve  c 
in  form,  that  he  might  perhaps  be  rightly  classed  with  Opitz  as 
belonging  to  the  school  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Weckherlin 
spent  the  greater  part  of  bis  Ufe  in  London,  where  he  was  em- 
ployed as  secretary  to  the  German  embassy,  and  became  well 
acquainted  with  English  literature.  We  find  included  among  his 
original  productions  a  translation  of  the  well-known  poem,  *  Go, 
Boul^  the  body's  guest,'  which  has  been  ascribed  to  Baleigh. 


X.]  POPULAB  SONGS.  123 

This  iSy  we  Suspect,  ixpt  the  only  miAtake  of  the  kind  in  Weckher- 
lin's  collected  works. 

To  give  an  account  of  the  popular  songs  of  which  several  col- 
lections appeared  in  this  period  is  as  difficult  as  to  write  a  descrip- 
tion of  a  tune ;  for  these  songs  were  made  to  be  sung — not  read — 
and  their  melody  is  often  better  than  their  meaning. 

One  of  the  best  collections  is  the  Ambraser  Liederhtich  (1582), 
which  was  edited  for  the  'Stuttgart  Literary  Union'  in  1845. 
The  love-songs,  which  form  the  greater  part  of  the  series,  may, 
with  regard  to  their  realism,  be  contrasted  with  the  Minnelieder 
of  the  thirteenth  century.  Bacchanalian,  military,  and  hunting 
songs  are  included,  with  a  few  ballads  and  humorous  tales. 
Several  of  the  satirical  stories  given  in  the  Ambraser  and  other 
collections  have  the  monks  for  their  objects  of  ridicule,  while  a 
few  songs  about  heretics  are  directed  against  Luther  and  his 
friends.  Several  hymn-writers  endeavoured  to  put  down  tlio 
coarser  specimens  of  the  people^s  lyrical  poetry,  and  in  some  in- 
stances their  extinction  was  desirable.  But  Heinbich  Knavst, 
who  published,  in  1571,  a  collection  of  popular  songs  newly  con- 
verted to  Chridtdanity,  was  too  severe.  lie  thought  it  desirable, 
to  'convert '  into  a  hymn  a  harmless  little  song,  expressing  joy  for 
the  return  of  summer.  Knaust  was  unfortunate ;  for  his  hymns 
or  songs  were  sung  neither  in  the  churches  nor  in  the  streets.  They 
were  rather  too  lively  for  the  tabernacle,  while  they  were  too  dull 
for  secular  use. 

The  literary  merits  of  the  old  popular  songs  are  partly  negative. 
They  are  neither  reflective  nor  didactic  \  like  Goethe's  lyrics,  they 
are  without  decoration,  and  they  come  from  the  heart  Their 
influence  outlived  the  dreary  artificial  verse-making  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Some  of  their  best  characteristics  were  studied 
by  Biirger  and  Herder,  and  were  revived  in  beautiful  lyrical 
poems  by  Goethe.  The  collections  of  old  popular  songs  edited 
respectively  by  Uhland  and  Hoflmann  von  Fallersleben  must  be 
commended  for  their  fidelity.  The  same  praise  cannot  be  extended 
to  the  collections  edited  by  Brentano,  Gorres,  and  Erlach. 

If  we  may  use  the  name  poet  in  its  plain  and  popular  sense,  or 
as  claimed  by  all  verse- vmters  who  have  displayed  considerable 
inventive  power,  we  may  assert  that  Hai^s  Sachs  was  the  greatest 
German  poet  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Of  poetry  in  the  higher 
meaning  of  the  word^we  have  hardly  any  clear  ciiticism  in  EnglLsh, 


124  OUTLIK£S  OF  GERMAN  LITEBATUBE.  [Ch. 

if  we  except  Wordsworth's  prefaces  to  his  own  poems.  We  do 
not  use  the  name  poet  in  Wordsworth's,  but  in  the  popular  sense, 
when  we  apply  it  to  the  chief  master  singer  of  Niiraberg.  The 
prosaic  view  of  life ;  the  love  of  satire,  with  a  tendency  to  level- 
ling downwards ;  the  comic  humour,  not  without  coarseness  -,  the 
self-assertion  of  the  boor  and  the  townsman,  in  opposition  to  the 
nobility  and  the  cleigy ;  all  these  later  m^dieeval  traits  are  well  | 
collected  in  the  writings  of  Hans  Sachs ;  but  his  own  racy  style, 
honest  purpose,  and  good  humour  place  him  above  most  of  his 
predecessors.  We  should  not  accept  all  the  Niimberg  shoemaker's 
six  thousand  pieces  in  Terse  as  a  fair  exchange  for  Walther's 
lyrical  poems ;  but  in  all  the  verse  written  from  the  daj's  of  Wal- 
ther  to  those  of  Opitz  (bom  in  1597) — when  we  have  excepted 
some  excellent  hymns — ^we  shall  find  hardly  anything  better  than 
the  jocose  and  didactic  stories  of  the  Niimberg  master  singer. 

IIaks  Sachs  was  bom  at  Niimberg  in  1404,  and  was  educated 
at  the  Latin  School  in  his  native  town.  When  he  had  served  his 
time  there  as  an  apprentice  to  a  shoemaker,  he  started  on  his 
'  years  of  travel,'  and  wandered  freely  about  the  South  of  Ger- 
many. It  was  a  rule  of  the  trade-unions  of  his  time  that  after  the 
expiration  of  the  term  of  apprenticeship — shorter  than  in  England 
<— a  journeyman  .must  pass  some  years  in  travelling  from  place 
to  place  and  working  under  several  masters.  For  mutual  aid 
during  these  years  of  travel  journeymen  formed  friendly  unions,  by 
which  they  assisted  each  other  in  seeking  work,  and  sometimes  in 
avoiding  it.  The  time  actually  employed  by  Sachs  in  making 
shoes,  from  1511  to  1516, 5ould  hardly  have  been  considerable ;  for 
in  that  interval  he  visited  towns  too  numerous  to  be  mentioned ; 
exercised  his  rhyming  talent  in  many  singing  schools,  and  was  for 
some  time  employed  in  the  service  of  the  emperor.  Having  re- 
turned to  his  native  place,  Hans  married  and  started  as  a  master 
shoemaker,  with  a  resolution  to  make  literature  '  his  walking- 
stick,  but  not  his  crutch/  as  Sir  Walter  Scott  used  to  say. 
Several  great  men  have  begun  life  on  a  more  poetical  but  less 
substantial  basis.  Sachs  did  well  with  shoemaking  as  his  ccnti-al 
fortification,  and  verse-making  as  an  outwork.  He  made  money, 
and  was  a  great  man  in  Niimberg ;  but  not  only  p3etry — even  its 
shadow,  verse-making — has  in  its  natura  a  fatal  antithesis  to 
wealth,  and  we  find  Master  Sachs,  after  writing  about  eix  thou- 
sand pieces  of  verse — some  of  them  long  enough — poorer  than  he 


X.]  HAKS  SACHS,  125 

was  in  his  earlier  days^  but  neyer  reduced  to  abject  circumstances. 
On  the  whole,  he  was  a  respectable  man,  and  solved  the  problem 
of  life  better  than  some  poets  less  despised.  He  was  not  mis- 
understood, for  he  wrote  in  a  style  suited  to  the  average  capacity 
of  NiimbergerSy  and  he  knew  nothing  of  the  dreadful '  contrast  of 
the  real  and  the  ideal.'  After  living  comfortably  forty  years  with 
one  wife,  he  married  secondly,  when  he  was  sixty- seven  years 
old,  a  girl  of  seventeen,  whose  beauty  he  describes  in  a  song,  and 
this  extraordinary  union  of  May  and  November  was,  it  is  said, 
happy.  Worn  out  at  last  by  verse-making,  as  well  as  by  shoe- 
making,  Sachs  gradually  lost  his  faculties,  and  during  the  last 
three  or  four  years  of  his  life  was  almost  deprived  of  speech  and 
hearing.  At  this  time,  when  favoured  with  visits  by  his  nume- 
rous admirers,  he  sat  silent  at  a  table,  on  which  were  l^d  some 
well-bound  books,  and  in  reply  to  all  compliments  addressed  to 
him  nodded  his  snow-white  head,  but  spoke  not  a  word.  His 
poi*tiait  represents  a  venerable  man  with  a  high  overhanging  fore- 
head, aud  a  luxuriant  but  well-trimmed  grey  beard. 

The  literary  productiveness  of  the  Niirnberg  master  singer  was 
marvellous.  He  wrote,  as  we  have  said,  more  than  six  thousand 
pieces  of  verse — lyrical,  narrative,  and  dramatic ;  but  he  seldom, 
if  ever,  invented  a  plot,  or  a  story.  That  was  mostly  borrowed 
from  the  resources  of  his  very  extensive  reading.  His  best  pieces 
are  narratives,  partly  jocose,  partly  didactic,  in  which  he  describes 
popular  manners  in  his  own  times.  He  has  the  satirical  tone  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  and  is  not  fiee  from  faults  already  noticed 
in  another  Niirnberg  master  singer —RoeenblUt — but  Sachs  has 
good  humour  in  his  satire,  while  his  coarseness  belongs  to  his 
time,  and  has  no  bad  purpose.  Several  of  his  legends  are  pleasing, 
though  for  modern  ears  there  is  .some  irreverence  in  their  tone. 
In  the  legend  of  '  St.  Peter  and  the  Goat,'  for  example,  we  are 
told,  that  once  upon  a  time  St  Peter  was  perplexed  by  an  appa- 
rent prevalence  of  injustice  in  the  world;  and  ventured  to  think 
that  he  could  arrange  matters  better  if  he  held  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment. He  frankly  confesses  these  thoughts  to  his  master.  Mean- 
while, a  peasant  girl  comes  to  him,  and  complains  that  she  has 
to  do  a  hard  day's  work,  and  at  the  same  time  to  keep  in  order  a 
frolicsome  young  goat.  ^Now,'  says  the  Lord  to  Peter,  'you 
must  have  pity  on  this  girl,  and  must  take  charge  of  the  goat. 
That  will  serve  as  an  introduction  to  your  managing  the  affairs  of 


126     OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.     [Oh. 

tlie  universe.'    Peter  takes  the  goat  into  custody,  and  finds  quite 
enough  to  do : — 

The  young  goat  had  a  playful  inmd 

And  never  liked  to  be  confined ; 

The  apostle,  at  a  killing  pace, 

Followed  the  goat,  in  a  tiesperate  chase; 

Over  the  hills  and  among  the  briers 

The  goat  runs  on,  and  never  tires, 

While  Peter,  behind,  on  the  grassy  plain, 

Runs  on,  panting  and  sighing,  in  vain. 

All  day,  beneath  a  scorching  sun, 

The  good  apostle  had  to  run 

Till  evening  came ;  the  goat  was  caught. 

And  safely  to  the  master  brought. 

Then,  with  a  smile,  to  Peter  said 

The  Lord  :  *■  Well,  friend, .how  have  you  sped;-— 

If  such  a  task  your  powei;^  has  tried, 

How  could  you  keep  the  world,  so  wide  ?  *— 

Then  Peter,  with  his  toil  distressed, 

His  folly,  with  a  sigh,  confessed ; — 

'  No,  Master !  'tis  for  me  no  play 

To  rule  one  goat,  for  one  short  day; 

It  roust  be  infinitely  worse 

To  regulate  the  universe.' 

Apparent  irreverence  and  broad  humour  are  united  in  several 
other  stories  written  by  Sachs  with  a  good  intention.  Wishing  to 
expose  the  loose  morals  and  profane  conversation  of  the  common 
soldiery  of  his  times,  he  tells  us,  for  example,  that  Satan,  curious 
to  know-  the  truth  respecting  the  morals  of  these  people,  sent  a 
demon  to  bring  into  hell  ahout  half  a  dozen  soldiers  as  average 
specimens  of  their  class.  The  commissioner  was,  however,  so 
much  terrified  by  the  talk  of  the  soldiers,  and  gave  to  his  master 
such  an  accoimt  of  their  morals,  that  they  were  refused  admittance 
into  Pandemonium.  In  another  story  St.  Peter,  as  the  gatekeeper 
of  heaven,  exercises  an  unbounded  charity,  and  admits  a  number 
of  common  soldiers.  They  soon  prove  the' truth  of  Milton's  saying, 
*  The  mind  is  its  own  place ; '  for,  unable  to  relish  any  of  the 
pleasures  of  their  new  residence,  they  collect  their  pence,  and 
begin  playing  in  heaven  at  /  pitch-and-toss.'  This  game  ends  in 
a  quarrel,  and  after  some  trouble  with  them,  St.  Peter  sends  his 
.  guests  down  to  their  proper  quarters.  There  is  truth  in  such  a 
tale ;  and  it  is  only  superficially  irreverent.  Hans  Sachs  is  never 
weary  of  making  homely  appeals  of  this  nature  to  the  understand- 
ing of  his  hearers.    He  tells  of  the  tailor  who  clipped  and  stole 


X.]  HANS  SACHS.  127 

peces  of  the  clotli  he  had  to  make  up.  At  last,  his  conscieDce 
was  awakened  by  a  remarkable  dream  or  vision.  An  escort  of 
demons,  bearing  a  flag  made  up  of  strips  of  stolen  doth,  conducts 
the  tailor's  soul  into  purgatory.  He  awakens,  repents,  and  be- 
comes a  new  man ;  but— on  one  occasion  at  least — steals  a  sample 
of  cloth, 'because  'there  was  nothing  like  H  in  the  fiag.^  At 
last  the  tailor  dies,  and  St.  Peter  admits  him,  but  gives  him  a 
seat  so  near  the  boundary  line  of  heaven,  that  he  can  see  clearly 
every  sin  perpetrated  in  the  world  below.  Having  nothing  better 
to  occupy  his  thoughts,  he  undertakes  the  duties  of  a  detective,  and 
surprises  a  poor  woman  of  the  lower  world,  who,  urged  by  want; 
is  stealing  a  pocket-handkerchief.  Inspired  by  moral  indignation, 
the  tailor — though  so  lately  saved — seizes  a  footstool,  and  hurls  it 
down  on  the  criminal,  so  as  to  make  her  a  cripple  for  life.  A  lo- 
proof  of  the  Pharisee  follows.  Here  again  we  have  wholesome 
truth  under  the  disguise  of  a  seeming  irreverence.  These  must 
suffice  as  specimens  of  the  subjects  chosen  by  Hans  Sachs.  His 
dramas  are  inferior  to  his  narratives;  but  he  introduced  to  the 
German  stage  of  his  time  a  greater  variety  of  characters,  and  gave 
to  his  men  and  women  some  traces  of  individuality.  His  '  Shrove 
Tuesday  Plays '  are  better  than  his  crude  attempts  in  tragedy  and 
comedy.  The  shoemaker  and  master  singer  of  Niirnberg  was 
one  of  the  friends  and  followers  of  Luther,  whom  he  hailed  as  '  The 
Wittenberg  Nightingale,'  and  whose  death  he  deplored  in  an  elegy. 
If  we  find,  among  other  versifiers  of  his  times,  few  worthy  ^ven 
of  being  classed  with  Hans  Sacha,  we  must  remember  that  a* 
history  of  the  German- literature  of  the  axteenth  century  does  not 
represent  the  higher  intellectual  culture  of  the  age.  Hessfs,  who, 
in  Luther's  judgment,  was  the  best  poet  of  the  times,  wrote  in 
Latin,  and  Johann  Valentin  AndkbI  (1586-1664),  a  learned 
theologian  who  could  write  respectable  Latin,  almost  boasted  of 
his  carelessness  when  he  wrote  German.  His  best  work  in  verse 
is  good  in  purport,  but  about  as  bad  in  style  as  the  writer 
intended  it  to  be.  It  describes,  first,  the  character  of  a  pedant,  who 
accepts  a  cure  of  souls  in  order  to  gain  for  himself  a  comfortable 
position ;  then  follows  a  sketch  of  a  faithful  pastor,  who  devotes 
himself  to  the  welfare  of  his  flock.  Another  didactic  work  by 
Andrea  is  entitled  Die  CJiristenhurg,  and  describes  a  Christian 
Utopia.  Some  of  his  more  visionary  writings  gave  rise  to  fictions 
about  the  supposed  secret  society  of /the  Itosicrucians.'     The 


128  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.  [Ch. 

author's  allegoriefi  were  mistaken  for  reaKtiee.  The  error  of 
preaching  and  scolding  in  badly  written  verse  instead  of  prose  is 
found  in  Die  latUer  Warheit  (*  Pure  Truth '),  written  by  Bartholo-  1 
Mjsus  EiNOWALDT  (1530-1557)^  a  Lutheran  pastor  at  Lengfeld. 
He  describes  a  vision  of  heaven  and  hell  in  his  poem  called  '  True 
Eckart's  Christian  *  Warning ; '  but  it  is  didactic  ra^er  than 
poetical.  The  hell,  as  a  work  of  imagination,  is  more  tolerable 
'  than  the  heaven ;  but  this  is  not  saying  much  in  favour  of  either 
of  them. 

There  is  more  narrative  interest  to  be  found  in  some  fableK 
written  by  Bubkhabd  Waldis  (1485-1658),  and  in  others  by 
Erasmus  Albebus  (1500-1553).  Both  were  Lutherans  in  doc- 
trine, and  were  polemical  in  the  application  of  th^i^  morals.  The 
latter,  in  his  fable  of  'The  Lion  and  the  Ass,'  attacks  all  the 
Protestants  who  are  not  strict  Lutherans  of  his  own  type,  and 
Waldis  often  declaims  violently  against  Rome.  His  fables  with- 
out any  polemical  interest  are  his  best.  They  are  certainly  better 
than  such  long  mock-heroic  tales  as  Der  Frosohmetiseler  by  GsoBe 
RoLLENHAGEN  (1542-1600)  and  Der  Oansz-Konig  hy  Wolfbabt 
Spangenbbbo.  The  first  is  an  intolerable  story  of  warfare  be- 
tween frogs  and  mice,  every  new  complication  and  episode  in 
which  business  excites  in  the  reader  a  longing  for  some  decisive 
engagement  in  which  both  parties  may  be  finally  suppressed. 
Der  Oansz-Kaniff  consists  of  six  unconnected  rhapsodies  about 
gee^.  The  author  wrote,  as  he  tells  us,  several  other  '  poems/ 
in  which  the  heroes  were  cats  and  mice,  stockfish  and  frogs! 
Fortimately,  these  works  of  imagination  -  have  never  seen  the 
light. 

After  the  death  of  Luther,  and  during  the  latter  half  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  polemical  earnestness  seemed  to  be  declining, 
when  the  zeal  and  activity  of  the  recently-founded  order  of  Jesuits 
in  opposing  reformed  doctrines  awakened  another  satirist,  JoHAirir 
FiscHABT,  who  wrote  both  verse  and  prose.  He  was  bom  at 
Strassburg  in  1550,  studied  law  at  Basel,  and,  after  travelling  in 
England  and  several  parts  of  the  Continent,  resided  at  Speier  and 
at  Forbach.  He  died  in  1589.  There'is  a  want  of  clear  informa- 
tion respecting  some  parts  of  his  biography  and  the  authorship  of 
several  of  the  works  ascribed  to  him.'  He  was  a  man  of  versatile 
talents,  had  considerable  learning  and  a  remarkable  command  of 
language,  and  was  more  than  a  satirist ;  for  some  of  his  writings 


X.]  nSCHAET.  129 

sliow  his  patriotism  and  his  zeal  for  the  education  of  the  people. 
His  satirical  story  of  the  saints  Dominic  and  Francis  was  written 
in  reply  to  a  Franciscan  monk,  JoHAinv^  Nas,  already  named  as  a 
polemical  writer,  who  had  asserted  that '  the  Enemy/  in  assaulting^ 
Luther  so  frequently,  was  only  claiming  his  own  lawful  property  t 
Fischart  reminds  his  opponent  that  St  Dominic  was  harassed  in 
the  same  way.  It  would  be  requisite  to  refer  to  Latin  as  well  as 
German  literature,  to  show  the  character  of  the  satires  to  which 
Fischart  intended  to  supply  antidotes.  The  license,  personality 
and  coarseness  of  many  of  the  invectiyes  published  in  these  times 
can  hardly  be  imagined.  Not  only  the  moral  character  of  Luther, 
but  also  that  of  his  wife,  was  made  the  object  of  yirulent  abuse. 
Acrostics  were  malicious  in  these  days.  In  one  of  these  vehicles 
of  satire,  the  initial  letters  of  the  lines,  when  read  perpendicularly, 
give  Luthor*B  name,  in  its  Latin  form;  each  line  contains  five 
words,  all  beginning  with  the  same  letter,  and  the  whole  forms  an 
epigram  made  up  of  the  most  abusive  terms  that  can  be  found  in 
Latin.  To  such  satires  Fischart  replied  in  vigorous  German,  and 
with  a  resolution  not  to  be  excelled  either  in  rude  invectives  or  in 
verbal  oddities.  When  he  cannot  find  a  word  to  express  aptly  his 
satirical  humour,  he  makes  one.  The  satire  above  named  was 
followed  by  another  of  a  more  intemperate  tone  commonly  styled 
*  The  Jesuit's  Little  Hat,' — though  that  was  not  the  original  title 
— and  first  printed  in  1580.  Its  plot  could  hardly  be  decorously 
given  even  in  outlines,  as  one  incident  may  suffice  to  indicate : — 
in  order  to  make  '  the  four-cornered  hat '  as  full  as  possible  of 
mischief,  not  only  the  special  services  of  Lucifer  and  all  his  subor- 
dinates, but  also  those  of  'his  grandmother,'  are  called  into 
vigorous  exercise.  '  The  Bee-Hive,'  another  satire  on  the  Romish 
clergy,  is  only  in  part  an  original  work.  Fischart's  prose  is,  on 
the  whole,  better  than  his  verse.  His  'History  of  the  Heroes 
Gorgellantua  and  Pantagruel '  is,  as  the  title  indicates,  an  imita- 
tion and  partly  a  free  translation  of  Eabelais.  In  this  and  other 
books  Fischart  delights  in  strange,  uncouth  combinations  of  worde, 
which  resemble  the  verbal  exploits  of  Aristophanes.  Thus  we 
read  of  'the  innumerable-as-stars-ih-the-heavens-or-as-sands-on- 
the-sea-shore  impositions  of  the  astrologers  and  prognosticators.' 
In  this  instance  his  satire  was  well  directed;  for  the  impostors, 
who  called  themselves  '  astrologers,'  were  some  of  th^  most  pros- 
perous literary  men  of  these  times,  and  established  a  fiourisLiog 


ISO  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAK  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

trade,  requiring  scarcely  any  capital  beyond  the  ignorance  of  the 
people.  The  '  Prophetic  Almanac '  was  the  selling-book  at  fairs 
and  markets^and  was  read  with  excitement  exceeding  that  produced 
by  modern  'novels  of  the  season.'  The  poorest  farmer  gladly  laid 
down  his  groat  to  carry  home  the  book  which  marked  all  the 

*  lucky  days'  for  sowing  wheat,  making  bargains, '  hair-cutting '  and 

*  blood-letting.'  The  events  of  the  times,  as  well  as  the  ignorance 
of  the  people,  were  favourable  to  this  trade  in  imposition.  A 
thousand  failures  did  not  hurt  the  success  of  the  tradesmen ; 
preachers  and  divines,  from  the  time  of  Luther  to  the  eighteenth 
century,  preached  and  wrote  against  Uhe  magicians'  in  vain. 
One  of  the  absurd  old  almanacs  ascribes  all  the  events  of  the 
Reformation  to  the  fact,  that  *  Luther  was  born  under  the  planet 
Jupiter  in  Capricorn.'  Fischart  justly  says, '  It  is  presumptuous  to 
involve  Heaven  itself  in  our  disputes.'  We  cannot  literally  ti'ans- 
late  the  strange  title  of  the  book  in  which  he  caricatures  the 
productions  of  ^  the  impostors ;'  but  it  is  something  like  the  fol- 
lowing : — *  The  Grandmother  of  all  Almanacs,  or  the  Pantagruel- 
istic,  thick-with-impositions,  Phlebotomist's  Adviser,  Farmer's 
Code  of  Rules  and  Weather  Book,  suited  for  all  limes  and  every 
country;  by  the  accomplished  rat-catcher  Winhold  Alcofribas 
Wiistblutus.'  In  this  caricature  he  endeavoured  to  recommend  a 
safe  style  of  prophesying,  of  which  the  following  passage  is  a 

specimen : — 

• 

In  this  year  we  may  expect  the  planets  to  be  moveable ;  but  they  will 
move  only  in  the  courses  appointed  by  their  Creator.  From  certain  aspects, 
we  may  conclude  that  the  colic  and  other  sign9H>f  a  disordered  stomach  will 
be  prevalent  in  the  summer  among  people  who  eat  large  quantities  of  unripe 
fruit,  especially  plum.^  and  drink  plenty  ol  sour  butter-mill^.  Com  will  be 
too  dear  for  poor  men,  and  too  cheap  for  great  landowners.  Vines  will  not 
flourish  in  the  Black  Forest,  nor  in  the  Bohemian  Forest;  but  the  best  vine- 
yards on  the  Rhine  will  produce  wine  strong  jBnough  to  throw  many  people 
down-  from  chairs  and  stools.  Beer  also  will  be  good  this  year,  if  the 
brewers  will  not  use  too  much  water.  In  short,  we  may  expect  an  abundant 
supply  of  wine  and  com,  if  the  wishes  of  poor  people  are  fulUlled.  Dairymen 
may  take  notice  that  black  cows  will  give*  white  milk.  With  regard  to  the 
affairs  oi  various  nations,  we  may  venture  to  say  that  the  Bavarians  and  the 
Swabians  will  prosper,  if  nothing  occur  to  prevent  it.  We  have  to  notice 
dark  '  aspects '  for  the  people  of  Morocco  and  other  hot  countries ;  but  the 
people  of  Sweden  will  be  tolerably  fair.  Also  we  may  promise  that  there 
will  be  com  in  Poland,  many  cows  in  Switzerland,  fine  oxen  in  Hungary, 
good  butter  and  cheese  in  Holland  and  Flanders,  salt  fish  in  Norway,  firesh 
salmon  in  Scotland,  and  a  plentiful  supply  Oi  ignorance  and  folly  in  aU 
countries. 


' 


XJ  THE  DBAMA.  181 

• 

A  polemical  tendency  is  found  even  in  some  parts  of  tlie  dra- 
matic productions  of  ^hese  times ;  especially  in  the  plays  written 
by  NiOiAUS  Manttel  (1484-1530),  a  man  of  remarkably  versatile 
talents.  He  was  active  as  a  statesmen  at  Berne,  and  was  also  a 
soldier,  a  writer  of  verse,  a  painter,  a  sculptor,  and  a  wood- 
engraver.  His  Shrove  Tuesday  Plays,  consisting  mostly  of  satires 
on  the  Komish  clei^y,  are  bitter,  humorous,  and  irreverent  in  the 
extreme. 

The  greatest  improvement  made  in  the  so-called  religious  plays 
of  this  time  is  found  in  their  selection  of  subjects  from  the  Old 
TestamenL  By  this  change,  they  at  once  gained  variety  and 
avoided  such  extreme  irreverence  as  had  been  common.  But  these 
so-called  dramas  founded  on  Bible  histories  were  still  low  enough 
in  their  general  characteristics.  Among  their  writers,  Paul 
Bebhuhn,  who  was  rector  of  Zwickau  in  1535,  may  be  named  aa 
having  introduced  some  improvements  in  form;  but  his  dramas 
— 'The  Marriage  at  Cana'  and  'Susanna' — have  no  poetical 
merits.  A  play  entitled  'The  Beginning  and  the  End  of  the 
World,'  writtan  (about  1580)  by  Bartholomjbus  KeUgeb,  has 
been  commended  for  its  tragic  interest.  The  author  possessed 
some  versatility,  for  he  published  in  1587  a  New  EtUen^negd^  or 
collection  of  jests. 

The  Shrove  Tuesday  Plays  were  greatly  extended  with  regard 
to  their  range  of  topics,  and  some  of  the  best  were  written  by 
Hans  Sachs.  The  singing  school  at  NUmberg  had  erected  there 
an  amphitheatre  without  a  roof,  for  the  performnnce  of  such 
secular  plays  as  had  formerly  been  confined  chiefly  to  private 
dwellings.  But  the  most  noticeable  innovations  in  dramatic 
performances  were  introduced  by  a  company  of  strolling  playera 
who  called  themselves  'The  English  Comedians,'  though  we 
have  no  evidence  that  any  of  them  came  from  England.  They 
had,  however,  all  the  self-sufHciency  and  audacity  of  ^ho  lowest 
class  of  English  players  of  their  time.  It  seems  probable  that 
they  extemporised  freely  on  the  stage,  and  assumed  an  unbounded 
license,  committing  every  fault  condemned  in  Hamlet's  warning. 
Nothing  can  be  more  atrocious  than  the  plot  ot  one  of  their  pieces 
called  ^  Titus  Andronicus.'  The  extreme  faults  ot  these  strolling 
players,  who  sacrificed  everything  to  excite  a  sensation,  made 
them  very  popular.  Jakob  Atber,  who  died  in  1605,  was  one 
of  their  more  successful  imitators.    The  pieces  of  this  Qerman 


132  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

contemporary  of  Shakespeare — ^including  'Dives  and  Lazarus,' 
'The  Prodigal  Son,'  and  'Jan  Posset,' — have  no  literary  value, 
but.  show  more  tact  in  theatrical  effect  than  is  foimd  in  Hans 
Sachs. 

Han^BiCH  JuinrSj  Duke  of  Brunswick  (1564-1613),  may  be 
named  as  another  imitator  of  the  deplorable  imitators  styling 
themselyes  '  English  Comedians.'  He  kept  in  his  service  a  com- 
pany of  players,  and  wrote  several  comedies  in  which  he  succeeded 
well,  in  one  respect — in  laying  aside  all  aristocratic  pretensions. 
In  literature  ad  captandum  mdguB  seems  to  have  been  the  duke's 
motto.  His  plays  are  in  prose,  and  he  often  introduces  a  Low 
German  dialect  His  best  characters  are  his  fools ;  but  they  are 
too  much  alike.  He  is  very  fond  of  introducing  demons,  even 
when  there  is  no  demand  for  their  services.  The  humour  of  one 
of  his  comedies  consists  in  a  series  of  monstrous  falsehoods,  of 
which  some  were  copied  in  the  well-known  stories  of  Baron 
Miinchausen.  As  a  specimen  of  the  duke's  tragic  power,  we  may 
name  his  play  of  '  The  Disobedient  Son^'  in  which  eighteen  chA^ 
racters  are  introduced.  Of  these  nine  are  murdered,  four  commit 
suicide,  one  is  carried  away  by  Satan,  while  only  four  survivors, 
three  of  whom  are  demons,  escape  from  the  tragic  fury  of  Hsiir- 
BICH  JuxFQS.  It  might  be  imagined,  after  reading  some  of  the 
plays  written  by  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  that  the  theatre  could 
hardly  fall  to  a  lower  level  than  it  had  reached  in  his  times;  but 
his  plays  would  be  respectable  if  contrasted  with  some  of  the 
tragedies  afterwards  written  by  Lohenstein. 

Among  several  of  the  '  People's  Books '  written,  translated,  or 
edited  during  this  period,  the  first  place  belongs  to  the  notorious 
story  of  '  Dr.  Faustus,'  written  in  prose  by  an  unknown  author, 
and  first  printed  by  Johann  Spies  of  Frankfort,  in  1587.  This 
,  successful  book  was  followed  and  superseded  by  a  tiresomely  ex- 
tended version  of  the  story  of  Faust^  written  by  Geobg  Rudolf 
WiDHAinr,  and  published  at  Hamburg,  in  1599. 

The  prose  story  of  '  Faust,'  as  printed  in  1587,  is  very  stupid. 
Perhaps,  the  best  part  of  it  is  the  copy  of  Faust's  'bond' 
with  the  enemy.  It  is  firm  and  clear,  and  could  hardly  be  frus- 
trated by  a  modem  attorney: — 'Having  undertaken  to  explore 
the  elements,'  Faust  writes,  'and  finding  that  the  talents  bestowed 
on  me  from  above  are  not  sufficient  for  the  task;  I  have  engaged 
in  a  covenant  with  the  commissioned  genius  now  present,  and 


XJ  FAUST.  183 

named  Mepbistopbeles,  that  he  fihall  serve  me  for  the  space  of 
twentj-four  years.'  Then  follows  the  promise  to  pay  for  such 
service  by  a  full  surrender  of  the  magician's  soul  and  body  for  ever. 
This  promise  was  fulfilled,  we  are  told,  at  the  village  of  Rimlich^ 
near  Wittenberg,  exactly  twenty-four  years  after  Faust  had  signed 
the  bond,  and  between  twelve  and  one  in  the  morning. 

Other  versions  of  this  tragic  story  are  too  numerous  to  be  even 
named  here.  Faust  was.  made  the  hero  of  a  tale  including  a 
mythology  that  had  been  long  believed  by  the  German  people.  It 
is  more  than  probable  that  a  man  named  Faust— -either  a  professor 
of  magic,  or  popularly  suspected  aa  a  magician — really  lived  in 
Wiirtemberg,  about  the  beguming  of  the  sixteenth  century.  At 
that  time  and  before,  remarkable  pretensions  in  science  or  learning, 
when  existing  apart  from  the  profession  of  theology,  had  often  ex- 
cited suspicions  of  magic.  The  intellectual  and  religious  move- 
ment of  the  times  had  given  rise  to  no  general  scepticism  re- 
specting the  reality  of  magic,  but  had  rather  served  to  confirm 
popular  faith  in  old  stories  of  demonology.  That  faith  had  been 
for  a  long  time  regulated  by  the  authority  of  the  Church,  but  had 
now  liberated  itself  from  such  control.  Several  of  the  most  enter- 
prising intellects  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  still 
adhered  to  a  belief  in  necromancy  and  magic,  and  some  learned 
men  professed  themselves  to  be  adepts  in  these  supposed  sciences. 
Agbippa  voir  Nettesheim  and  Van  Helmont  were  believers. 
Pabacelstjb,  in  his  writings  on  the  theory  of  magic,  did  not  deny  its 
reality,  but  gave  a  new  explanation  of  its  processes.  While  deny- 
ing the  virtues  of  external  charms,  rites,  and  formuhe,  he  ascribes 
all  the  powers  of  magic  to  the  will  and  the  imagination ;  imagina- 
tion, he  tells  us,  when  it  is  attended  with  the  exercise  of  a  powerful 
vnll,  on  the  part  of  a  magician,  can  subjugate  the  minds  of  other  men. 
Oampaitblla  held  a  similar  doctrine.  Such  teaching  as  this — ^not» 
confined  to  the  studies  of  the  learned — served  to  confirm  traditions 
of  a  popular  demonology,  including  relics  of  old  German  mythology. 
All  that  had  been  believed  about  alps,  giants,  dwarfs,  kobolds, 
'  Grindel  and  his  mother,'  and  other  inhabitants  of  the  mythic 
world,  was  transferred  to  one  personage — the  spiritual  foe  of  man- 
kind. No  man  could  hold  the  popular  faith,  as  reduced  to  this  simple 
form,  more  firmly  than  Luther,  and  its  power  is  shown,  still  more 
clearly,  by  the  fact  that,  after  Luther's  time,  the  greatest  of  the 
mystics,  BoHif  E,  whose  life  was  spent  in  an  endeavour  to  solve  the 


134»       *     OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

question  of  tbe  origin  of  evil,  and  to  deduce  all  effects  from  one 
benevolent  source^  felt  himself  compelled  to  write  of  '  Lucifer ' 
in  language  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  that  of  Manichseism. 

This  popular  faith  fully  explains  the  success  of  the  legend  of 
Faust.  In  its  first  form,  as  already  intimated,  it  had  no  literary 
merits,  and  its  purport — that  men  must  not  forsake  the  simplicity 
of  faith  and  submission  to  God's  will,  either  to  gratify  intellectual 
ambition  or  earthly  pasisions — ^was  bat  feebly  set  forth.  But  the* 
story  passed  rapidly  from  one  edition  to  another ;  it  was  dramatised 
by  our  English  playwright  Kit  Marlowe  at  the  close  of  the  six- 
teenth century ;  in  the  seventeenth  it  was  turned  into  a  puppet- 
show  to  please  the  German  people,  and,  in  this  form,  it  long  re- 
tained its  popularity.  As  recently  as  about  the  beginning  of  the 
present  century,  we  read  that  the  proprietor  of  a  puppet-show,  vexed 
by  some  conscientious  scruples,  resolved  '  that  Faust  should  never 
be  played  again  by  his  company.'  The  subject  of  the  libretto 
was  too  serious,  he  thought,  to  be  placed  upon  the  etage ;  though 
the  tragic  effects  must  have  been  considerably  mitigated,  when 
Dr.  FaustuB,  Mephistopheles,  and  several  subordinate  demons  were 
represented  by  wooden  dolls,  f 

There  is  little  that  is  edifying  in  the  stories  written  by  Wixd- 
HANK  and  WiCKRAM ;  but  they  have  several  characteristic  traits, 
and  tell  something  of  the  popular  taste  of  the  times.  Wiedmailn, 
in  his  story  of  'Peter  Leu,'  presents  to  us  an  extreme  caricature  of 
a  parish  priest ;  a  burlesque  even  grosser  than  that  we  have  seen  in 
the  '  Parson  of  Kalenberg.'  Peter  is  poor,  and,  at  one  time,  is 
especially  in  want  of  linen  for  his  household.  It  happens,  about 
the  same  time,  that  a  dense  fog  settles  down  on  his  parish,  and  is 
attended-r-*as  some  people^  fancy — with  a  strange,  sulphurous  scent 
'  This  has  been  caused,'  says  the  clergyman,  '  by  some  leakage 
from  a  subterranean  Inferno ; '  but  if  the  people  will  bring  a  suffi- 
cient quantity  of  their  best  linen,  sheets,  and  table-cloths,  he  will 
endeavour  to  stop  the  rift  near  the  church,  from  which  the  vapour 
and  the  bad  odour  escape.  They  obey ;  the  fog  clears  away ;  and 
the  parsonage  is  decently  supplied  with  good  linen.  Lazarus 
Sakdbub  deserves  notice  for  one  merit —rare  among  the  versifiers 
of  his  times — conciseness.  He  has  no  didactic  purpose,  and  when 
he  has  said  a  thing  once,  he  makes  an  end  of  it.  One  of  his  short 
stories  opens  with  some  pathos.  A  young  man  is  to  be  hanged  ; 
but,  when  he  appears  on  the  scaffold,  a  maiden — ^though  a  stranger 


X.]  THE  'PEOPLE'S  BOOKS.'  135 

to  him — ^is  so  distreased  by  his  fate,  that  she  earnestlj  prays  his 
life  may  he  spared.  The  authorities  relent  and  spare  his  life,  on 
the  sole  condition  that  he  will  marry  the  maiden.  The  culprit 
comes  down  from  the  scaffold,  critically  examines  the  girFs 
physiognomy,  and  then  expresses  a  wish  that  justice  should  take 
its  course,  as  before  appointed.  '  Better  to  end  all  trouble  thus  at 
once,'  says  the  resigned  man, '  than  to  begin  a  new  life  of  trouble.' 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  his  execution  followed,  and 
excited  no  further  sympathy. 

As  one  more  specimen  from  a  class  of  books  very  popular  in 
these  times,  we  may  notice  G£org  Wickbaic's  'Traveller's 
Little  Book  to  Drive  away  Melancholy '  (1655).  It  is  written  in 
a  prose  style  considerably  better  than  that  commonly  found  in 
jest-books.    Here  is  one  sample : — 

A  monk  who  had  the  care  of  souls  in  the  parish  of  Poppenried  was  re- 
nowned for  his  power  of  vociferation.  One.  Sunday  afternoon,  while  he  was 
shouting  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  a  poor  widow  in  the  congregation  began  to 
wring  her  hands  and  cry  bitterly.  The  monk  noticed  this  effect  of  his  elo- 
quence and,  after  the  service,  asked  the  widow  what  passage  in  the  sermon 
had  so  deeply  affected  her.  '  Ah ! '  said  she,  *  when  my  husband  died,  all  that 
he  left,  to  aid  me  in  earning  a  livelihood,  was  an  ass,  and  he  died  soon  after 
I  lost  my  husband;  I  have  tried  to  overcome  my  sorrow,  but  oh,  sir,  when 
I  heard  your  preaching  this  afternoon,  it  revived  all  my  trouble ;  for  it  was 
Just  the  voice  of  the  ass.' 

The  foreign  legend  of  *  The  Wandering  Jew '  may  be  named 
among  the  People^s  Books  of  the  time.  Some  better  stories — such 
as  'The  Fair  Magelone,'  ^Patient  Helene,'  'Melusina,'  'Genoveva,' 
and  'The  Four  Sons  of  Haimon,* — ^though  long  popular  in  Qer- 
nnmy,  had  also  a  foreign  origin,  and  must  therefore  be  only 
briefly  noticed.  A  collection  of  'People^s  Books,'  containing 
thirteen-  stories,  was  published  by  Feysbabend  in  1578.  Among 
later  and  better  editions  may  be  named  Soqwab^s  Buck  der  schoiv 
sten  Oesehiehten  und  iSagea  (1836),  aad  Sim&ock's  Collection 
(1846-67). 


136  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAIN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FIFTB  PERIOD.    1626-1725. 

TEB  TIMBS  —  OPm  AND  HIS  SCHOOL  —  LUTHBBA.K  AMD  PIETISTIO 
HTHNS  —  SECULAR  LYRICAL  POETRY  —  DIDACTIC  AND  SATIRICAL 
VERSa— THB  DRAMA — ^FOFXTL&R  SONGS  AND  BALLADS. 


« 


That  the  literature  of  a  people  represents  their  national  life  and 
progress,  is  a  theory  that  must  be  understood  so  as  to  leaye  room 
for  remarkable  exceptions,  such  as  we  find  in  the  earlier  part  of 
the  period  1626-1725.  During  that  time,  men  who  wrote  in 
verse  or  prose  mostly  turned  their  attention  away  from  political 
and  military  afiairs.  The  religious  and  ecclesiastical  struggles  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  and  the  political  movements  for  which  the 
Beformation  had  been  made  to  serve  as  a  pretext,  had  failed  to 
give  either  union  or  liberty  to  the  German  nation.  The  old  order, 
founded  on  authority,  had  been  broken  in  many  parts  of  the 
empire,  and  intolerance,  aided  by  the  ambition  of  princes,  could 
not  supply  a  basis  for  a  new  union  of  three  churches  with  the 
state.  The  stem  divisions  of  opinions  between  Lutherans  and 
Calvinists  j  the  efforts  of  the  Jesuits  in  the  South  of  Germarfy ; 
the  competition  of  princes  for  absolute  power,  and — worse  than 
all— the  interference  of  foreign  powers ; — all  helped  to  make  the 
land  a  battle-place  of  religious,  political,  and  military  parties — a 
realisation,  on  a  vast  scale,  of  the  whole  theory  of  intolerance.  The 
lower  powers  of  human  nature,  which  had  been  held  down  or  regu- 
lated, to  some  extent,  under  the  old  authority  of  the  Church,  had 
broken  loose,  and  rapacious  adventurers  were  the  rulers  of  the 
times. 

Of  the  miseries  that  followed  the  outbreak  of  the  Thirty  Years' 
War,  the  literati  of  the  age  tell  us  little.  Thoughtful  and  senti- 
mental men  turned  away  from  evils  too  great  to  be  speedily 
remedied,  and  occupied  their  minds,  as  well  as  they  could,  in 


XI.]  LITERARY  SOCIETIES.  137 

making  verses,  or  in  other  harmlesa  studies.  Religious  men 
looked  away  from  this  world  into  another,  and  expressed  their 
longings  in  devout  hymns  which,  during  this  period,  became  more 
and  more  expressive  of  personal  feelings.  Other  educated  men 
found  recreation  as  members  of  several  societies  which  were  in- 
stituted for  the  culture  of  the  German  language.  One  of  these 
literary  unions  included  a  great  number  of  princes  and  noblemen, 
who  called  themselves  '  The  Palm  Order,'  or  *  The  Fruit-bringing 
Society.'  Among  other  unions  founded  for  the  same  purpose  the 
'German  Association'  at  Hamburg  (1643),  and  the  'Pegnits 
Order'  (1644),  of  which  some  scantjr  vestiges  remained  a  few 
years  ago,  may  be  named.  The  Literary  Societies  established 
near  the  close  of  the  century  had  a  higher  character  than  those* 
above  noticed. 

Many  of  the  poets  and  versifiers,  who  were  members  of  societies 
like  these,  were  classified  with  regard  to  their  respective  localities, 
or  as  belonging  to  several '  schools.*  The  First  Silesian  School, 
with  Opitz  at  its  head,  was  the  most  important.  The  Saxon 
School  could  boast  of  one  poet,  Paul  Fleming,  and  the  Hamburg 
School  counted  among  its  members  Zesen,  a  purist  in  language, 
and  one  of  the  more  earnest  of  the  members  of  the  Palm  Order. 
The  worat  versifiers,  with  regard  to  their  moral  purport  and  their 
afiectations  in  style,  belonged  to  the  Second  Silesiiui  School,  of 
which  Hofimannswaldau  was  the  representative. 

Opitz  and  his  followers  made  great  improvements  in  versifi- 
cation, and  the  members  of  the  unions  banished  foreign  words  from 
German  poetry,  but  its  internal  character  was  mostly  imitative. 
French  models  were  admired  at  the  courts  where  successful  versi- 
fiers— such  men  as  Canitz  and  Besser — ^found  patronage.  In  Epic 
poetry,  hardly  anything  noticeable  was  produced  by  the  schools. 
Their  best  writings  were  lyrical,  and  the  hymns  were  better  than 
the  secular  songs  of  the  times.  Their  idylls  and  pastorals,  telling 
of  the  bliss  of  solitary  or  associated  shepherds  in  flowery  fields,  are 
inane  afiectations ;  but  the  language  of  the  heart  may  be  heard  in 
such  hymns  as  were  written  by  Heermann,  Gerhardt,  and  Neumark. 
In  the  lower  popular  poetry  of  the  times  soldiers'  songs  prevail  j 
but  we  hear  also  of  the  complaints  of  the  peasantry,  who  were 
made  victims  by  the  armies  of  both  confessions  of  faith. 

Didactic  and  descriptive  poems  (so  called)  were  as  dull  as  they 
deserved  to  be ;  biit  in  satires  some  improvement  was  made  by 


138  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

condensing  them  into  the  epigrammatic  forms  chosen  by  Logau 
and  Wernicke. 

The  Drama  was  represented  chiefly  by  three  authors, — Gryphius, 
a  melancholy  man,  who  wrote  heavy  tragedies,  but  showed 
some  humour  in  comedy ;  Lohenstein,  whose  style  is  the  extreme 
of  bombast ;  and  Weise,  who  generidly  tried  to  make  his  dramas 
moral  and  useful  in  their  purport.  It  must  be  added  that  they  are 
ful>  of  platitudes. 

The  prose  written  during  this  century  is,  on  the  whole,  inferior 
to  the  verse.  Several  men  of  some  learning  and  no  taste  wrote  in 
the  German-Latin  called  by  Leibnitz  '  Mischmasch ; '  others,  misled 
by  vanity,  or  intending  to  satirise  a  bad  fashion,  inserted  French, 
Italian,  and  Spanish  phrases  in  their  prose.  Meanwhile,  in  the 
universities,  lectures  on  history,  law,  and  other  branches  of  learn- 
ing were  delivered  and  dry  controversial  theology  was  written  in 
Latin.  Near  the  close  of  the  century,  the  pietists  made  some  im- 
provement in  both  form  and  purport.  German  was  substituted 
for  Latin,  and  religion  took  the  place  of  theology#  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  add  that,  in  the  above  remarks  on  the  German  prose 
written  during  the  seventeenth  century,  no  reference  has  been 
made  to  the  writings  of  Leibnitz  and  Wolf.  With  regard  to 
both  their  style  and  their  internal  character,  they  belong  to  the 
eighteenth  century. 

The  greatest  formal  improvement  in  the  literature  of  the  period 
must  be  ascribed  to  the  founder  of  the  First  Silesian  School, 
Martin  Opitz,  who  was  bom  in  1697,  at  Bunzlau  in  Silesia. 
He  studied  at  Frankfort  and  at  Heidelberg,  and  published,  in 
1618,  a  Latin  essay  on  'Contempt  of  the  German  Language/ 
His  most  important  work,  the  *  Book  on  German  Poetry '  (1624), 
passed  through  nine  editions  before  1669,  and  produced  a  reforma- 
tion in  versification.  For  three  centuries  nearly,  the  art  of  writing 
in  verse  had  degenerated  and,  at  last,  had  been  reduced  to  nothing 
better  than  a  mere  counting  of  syllables.  Opitz  insisted  on  the 
importance  of  both  metre  and  rhythm,  while  he  contended  for 
purity  in  the  choice  of  words.  His  own  attainments  as  a  scholar 
— especially  as  a  writer  of  respectable  Latin  verses — ^recommended 
his  book  to  the  notice  of  educated  men,  and  its  success  made 
Opitz  the  founder  of  a  new  school,  the  First  Silesian.  His  ser- 
vices were,  however,  confined  to  the  form  of  poetry ;  of  its  spirit, 
or  inner  power,  he  knew  little  or  nothing.    His  own  poems  are 


XLJ  OPITZ.  189 

• 

coTrect  but  imitatiTe,  and  show  good  sense  rather  than  genius. 
The  best  of  his  lyrical  poems,  are  found  in  his  'Consolations 
during  the  Miseries  of  War '  (1632).  '  Zlatna,  or  Peace  of  Mind  ' 
(1623),  and  '  The  Praise  of  Rural  Life/ both  express  a  Tove  of  re- 
tirement, and  show  a  tendency  to  reduce  poetry  to  descriptive  and 
didactic  verse-writing.  In  '  Vesuvius/  we  have  the  first  de- 
scriptive poem  written  in  German.  In  his  later  years  Opitz  trans- 
lated the  Psalms  and  the  Antigone  of  Sophocles  and  edited 
'The  Annolied/  a  German  poem  of  the  twelfth  century.  The 
praise  bestowed  on  Opitz  during  his  lifetime  now  appears  ex- 
travagant. His  fame  extended  to  Paris,  where  critics  who  could 
not  read  his  poems  declared  boldly  that  'he  had  redeemed  his 
native  land  from  the  reproach  of  barbarism.'  As  his  merits  were 
purely  formal,  and  could  not  be  seen,  in  a  translation,  this  Parisian 
laudation  must  have  been  an  echo  or  an  intuition  ;  but  it  served 
to  confirm  the  poet's  fame  at  home.  He  was  elected  a  member  of 
the  aristocratic  '  Palm  Order,'  instituted  for  the  culture  of  the 
German  Language,  and  in  1627  was  raised  to  the  rank  of  nobility 
as  Martin  Opitz  von  Bober(eld.  After  several  years  of  service  in 
diplomacy,  he  settled  in  Dantzig,  and  gained,  in  1637,  an  appoint- 
ment as  historiographer  to  the  King  of  Poland.  He  was  closely 
engaged  in  historical  researches^  and  was  looking  forward  to  the 
enjoyment  of  years  of  literary  industry,  when  his  career  was  cut 
short  He  died  in  August,  1639,  of  the  plague,  caught  from  a 
beggar  to  whom  he  had  given  alms. 

To  explain  the  high  reputation  gained  by  the  literary  labours 
of  Martin  Opitz,  his  works  must  be  estimated  with  the  aid  of 
xeferences  to  his  predecessors  and  his  contemporaries..  In  cor- 
rectness and  good  taste,  his  theory  and  practice  made  a  new  epoch 
in  German  Poetry.  Though  its  spring-time-— the  thirteenth 
centuiy — ^had  been  promising,  its  summer  was  long  in  coming. 
Shakspere  had  lived  in  England,  and  Hooker  and  Bacon  had 
written  in  their  noble  prose  styles;  but  no  such  literature  as 
theirs  had  followed  the  Reformation  in  Germany.  It  was  a  dreary 
time  in  literature  and  in. life  when  Opitz  lived,  and  he  did  the 
best  thing  for  literature  that  a  man  of  his  talents  could  have  done 
at  such  a  time.  He  could  not  change  its  purport;  but  he  polished 
its  exterior. 

We  cannot  speak  as  favourably  of  many  of  his  imitators,  who 
made  a  mere  amusement  of  versification.    Having  nothiog  to 


140.  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEEATTJEE.  [Ch. 

Bay,  tbej  might  have  said  it  more  concisely.  Their  mediocrity 
was,  however,  so  well  sustained,  that,  when  viewed  as  a  proof  of 
steady  perseverance,  it  looked  like  a  virtue.  The  road  from 
Hamburg  to  Berlin  is  not  flatter  than  the  works  of  several  of  the 
poetasters  who  followed  Opitz. 

To  find  the  best  and  the  most  sincere  poetry  of  these  dreary 
times,  we  must  turn  to  the  hynms  written  for  the  service  of  the 
Church.  Here  we  have  specimens  of  sacred  poetry  that  may 
worthily  follow  the  hymns  of  the  Lutheran  age.  The  first  %u- 
thor  who  combined  some  lyrical  inspiration  with  attention  to  the 
new  laws  of  verse  which  Opitz  had  introduced,  was  Johannes 
Hbebuann,  bom  in  1682,  in  Silesia.  He  was  for  some  years  a 
pastor  at  Eoben  on  the  Oder,  and  after  a  life  of  suffering,  during 
which  he  hardly  enjoyed  one  day's  health,  died  in  Poland  in  1647. 
Hia  best  hymns  and  other  lyrical  poems  are  contained  in  his  Haus^ 
und Herz-Mttdca  ('  Music  for  Home  and  for  the  Heart'),  published 
at  Leipzig  in  1639.  They  express  the  religious  discontent — ^the 
contrast  between  this  life  and  a  higher — that  supplies  the  key-note 
for  a  great  part  of  the  sacred  poetry  written  during  the  Thirty 
Years'  War.  The  same  feeling  is  discernible  even  in  the  verses 
written  by  a  girl,  Sibtlla  Schwabz,  who  died  in  1688,  when 
only  seventeen  years  old.  '  This  world  has  been  for  me,'  she  says, 
'  a  school  for  learning  sorrow , '  and  she  might  well  say  so,  for 
her  fiBither*s  homestead  was  burned  down  in  the  course  of  the 
war. 

'  Vanity  of  vanities ;  all  is  vanity,'  is  the  text  so  often  chosen 
by  Andbbas  Gbyfhius  (bom  in  1616),  that  he  wearies  his  readers, 
who  may,  however,  excuse  him  when  they  read  his  biography. 
His  'Churchyard  Thoughts'  (1656),  and  his  Odes  and  Sonnets 
often  express  gloomy  sentiments,  as  when  he  speaks  thus  of  him- 
self : — 

Since  first  I  saw  the  sun's  fair  light,  no  day 

For  me  without  some  grief  has  passed  away. 

Happy  the  child  who,  from  the  mother*8  breasl^ 

Early  departs  in  Paradise  to  rest  I 

One  of  his  best  hymns  begins  with  this  stanza :— - 

The  glories  of  thU  earthly  ball 
In  smoke  and  ashes  soon  must  fall; 
The  solid  rocks  will  melt  away ; 
Oar  treasures  all,  our  pleasures  all. 
Most  fade  as  dreams  before  the  day. 


0  PIETISM.  141 

The  melanclioly  expressed  by  Grypbius  was  unaffected.  He 
had  lost  both  father  and  mother  in  his  early  life,  had  been  cast  on 
the  world  by  a  stepfather,  and  after  wandering  about  here  and 
there,  gaining  his  subsistence  as  a  private  tutor,  had  settled  at 
Freistadt  in  Silesia.  Thence  he  was  driven  by  religious  pei'se- 
cution,  and  after  wandering  again  in  search  of  employment 
through  several  places,  he  was  elected,  at  last,  syndic  to  the 
principality  of  Qlogau  in  Silesia,  where  he  died  in  1664.  In  his 
choice  of  themes  for  sacred  poetry,  and  in  his  prevailing  funeral 
tones,  he  might  be  regarded  as  the  master  of  a  school.  Like 
Gryphitts  in  the  tone  of  their  sacred  poetry  were  Simon  Dach 
(1605-69),  though  he  could  be  lively  in  his  secular  verses,  Robert 
RoBERTHiN  (1600-48),  and  his  friend  Heinrich  Albert  (1604- 
88).  CHRiSTiAir  GRTPHitrs  (1649-1706),  the  son  of  Andreas, 
above  noticed,  was  an  inferior  versifier,  whose  melancholy,  in  one 
elegy  at  least,  was  quite  out  of  place.  He  wrote  a  long  and 
dismal  lamentation,  instead  of  a  call  to  arms,  when  Vienna  was 
besieged  by  the  Turks  in  1683. 

The  general  tendency  of  the  sacred  lyrical  poetry  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  was  towards  Pietism.  Philipp  Jakob  Spener,  a 
Lutheran  pastor,  who  lived  near  the  close  of  the  period,  was  called 
the  founder  of  the  Pietists;  but  their  best  thoughts  had  been 
expressed  by  earlier  writers.  There  had  long  existed,  not  two, 
but  three  chief  parties  in  the  Church,  representing  respectively, 
external  authority,  intellectual  orthodoxy,  and  mysticism,  so 
called.  The  new  name  given  to  a  moderated  mysticism  was 
Pietism,  and,  like  the  old  name;  it  was  used  as  a  term  of  reproach. 
Lutheran  orthodoxy,  as  taught  by  some  professors,  had  become  as 
dry  as  any  branch  of  mathematics,  and  would  have  been  as  cold, 
if  the  heat  of  controversy  had  not  supplied  the  want  of  vital 
warmth.  Wrangling  about  articles  was  as  dominant  in  the 
Protestant  Church  as  scholastic  disputation  had  been  in  the 
Catholic,  and  the  Pietists  now  held  in  the  Lutheran  a  position 
like  that  which  the  Mystics  had  occupied  in  the  Homish  Com- 
munion. Spener  held  all  the  Lutheran  articles  of  belief,  but  as- 
serted that  a  creed  was  no  substitute  for  a  religion  of  the  heart. 
*  We  must  have,'  said  he,  'the  living  faith  of  Luther,  as  well  as 
his  orthodoxy.'  Spener  only  gave  expression  to  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  several  predecessors,  including  some  of  the  best  hymn- 
writers  of  the  time. 


142  OUTLINES  OF  GEKMAN  LITEBATURE.  [Off. 

In  the  hymns  written  bj  Pattl  Flexutg  (160&-40)y  we  find 
little  of  the  tendency  to  Pietism  of  which  we  have  spoken.  One 
of  his  best  hymns — still  sung  in  Gennao  congregations — ^begins 
with  the  Une,  '  In  alien  meinen  Thaten^  like  many  other  lyrical 
poems,  it  is  hardly  translatable.  With  regard  to  his  popular 
energy  of  expression,  the  Jesuit,  Fbiedbich  Spbb  (1591-1635) 
might  be  ranked  next  to  Paul  Fleming ;  but  he  was  more  remark- 
able for  his  benevolence  than  for  his  poetic  genius.  He  was 
zealous  in  his  endeavours  to  expose  the  cruelty  of  persecuting 
women  accused  of  witchcraft.  When  asked  why  his  hair  had 
turned  grey  at  the  age  of  forty  yearS;  Spee  replied: — 'It  is 
because  I  have  seen  so  many  women  taken  to  the  stake,  to  be 
burned  for  witchcraft,  and  I  never  knew  one  fairly  found  guilty.' 
In  one  of  his  best  lyrical  poems,  Spee  gives  expression  to  the 
enthusiasm  that  so  soon  made  the  order  of  Jesuits  a  formidable 
power  in  Europe.  He  writes  thus  of  the  missionary  seal  of  St. 
Francis  Xavier  :*— 

When  the  stem  devoted  man 
Talked  of  sailing  to  Japan, 
All  his  frieDds  conspired  togethei^ 
All  against  him  set  their  faces, 
Talked  of  seas  in  stormy  weather. 
Dangers  grim  in  desert  places. 

Hush  you !  close  yonr  dismal  story  I 

What  to  me  are  tempests  wild  ?— 

Heroes,  on  their  way  to  glory. 

Mind  not  pastimes  for  a  child* 

Blow,  ye  winds  I — ^North,  South,  East,  West— 

Tis  for  souls  of  men  Tm  sailing. 

And  there^s  calm  within  my  breast 

While  the  storm  ia  round  me  wailing. 

Wnters  of  hymns,  more  or  less  successful^  were  so  numerous  in 
this  period,  that  we  must,  without  any  disrespect,  pass  by  several 
names  worthy  of  some  notice — such  as  Frank  and  Schmolcke — and 
we  can  mention  Rinokhabt  (1586-1649)  only  as  the  author  of  the 
very  popular  hymn '  Aim  danket  aUe  Gott  *  ('  Let  all  men  pndse  the 
Lord'),  introduced  by  Mendelssohn  in  his  Lobge^ang,  GsoBe 
Nbumark  (1621-81),  who  was  a  virtuoso  on  the  viol  da  gamba, 
wrote  and  set  to  music  a  fine  hymn,  expressing  an  absolute  trust 
in  Providence,  and  beginning  with  the  line,  '  Wer  nur  den  Ueben 
Qott  lasat  toaUen,^    The  tune  was  introduced  by  Mendelssohn,  in 


XI.]  GERHAKDT.  143 

his  oratorio  '  St.  Paul,'  and  was  one  of  Prince  Albert's  favourite 
sacred  melodies. 

Paul  Gerha-HDT  (1606-76),  who  was  like  Neumark  in  his 
choice  of  a  key-note,  was,  on  the  whole,  the  best  sacred  lyrical 
poet  of  the  seventeenth  century.  He  departed  from  the  old 
Lutheran  style,  without  falling  into  the  weak  sentimentalism  of 
the  later  Pietists  and  the  United  Brethren.  Like  Neumark,  he 
sings  of  the  repose  that  attends  a  firm  and  resolute  faith.  If  any 
serious  fault  can  be  found  in  hia  hymns,  it  is  that  they  are,  in  some 
instances,  too  long  One  of  the  most  pleasing  of  the  series  begins 
with  the  melodious  line,  *  Nun  rtthen  alle  WiUder  *  ('  Now  all  the 
woods  are  sleeping*),  and  has  long  been  a  favourite.  But  his 
best  hymn — still  sung  by  many  congregations  in  Germany  and  in 
England — ^begins  with  the  lines, 

Commit  thou  all  thy  griefs 
And  ways  into  bis  hands. 

The  twelve  stanzas  of  which  the  hymn  consists  all  serve  to 
expand  but  one  thought : — 

Give  to  the  winds  thy  fears  I 

Hope,  and  be  undismayed ! 
God  hiars  thy  sighs,  and  counts  thy  tears  i 

God  shall  lift  up  thy  head. 

Through  waves,  and  clouds,  and  storms, 

He  gently  clears  thy  way : 
Wait  thou  his  time,  so  shall  this  night 

Soon  end  in  joyous  day ! 

Several  hymn-writers,  differing  widely  in  some  respects, 
were  united  by  one  common  traitr---their  expression  of  personal 
sentiments,  rather  than  orthodox  opinions.  They  were'  men  of 
various  creeds,  and  were  called  either  Mystics,  or  Pietists,  or 
Pantheists,  as  taste  might  dictate.  All  were  weary  of  the  dry 
theological  controversy  of  their  times,  and  wanted  a  religion  for 
the  heart  and  the  life  of  man,  rather  than  for  his  head.  To 
JoHANKBS  ScHSFPLER,  or  Angelus  Silesius,  as  he  was  called  (1624- 
77),  the  titles  Pantheist  and  Mystic  might  be  applied  more  fairly 
than  to  many  other  writers  so  named.  His  chief  characteristic 
was  a*  bold  and  unguarded  expression  of  views  on  personal  religion. 
He  had  read  Bohme's  works ;  but  his  interpretation  of  them  was 
questionable.    In  his  later  life,  he  entered  the*  Roman  Catholic 


144  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cu. 

Churcli,  and  became  a  member  of  the  order  of  Minorites.  After 
this  change  of  profession,  his  writings  were  rather  didactic  than 
mystic.  His  most  remarkable  book,  the  Chentbmische  Wanders- 
mann  (1657),  consists  of  a  series  of  short  mystic  sayings  in  rhyme^ 
hardly  pointed  enough  to  be  called  epigrams,  but  frequently  very 
audacious  in  their  assertions.  It  is  quite  enough  to  say  of  them, 
that,  on  account  of  their  brevity,  they  are  mostly  abstract  and  un- 
qualified ;  yet  they  were  admired,  in  their  day,  by  both  Protestants 
and  Catholics.  Bcheffler  wrote  some  superior  hymns,  including 
one  beginning  with  the  line,  '  Follow  me !  the  Lord  is  saying,' 
and  another  beginning  with  the  words,  'Thee  will  I  love,  my 
strength,  my  tower  I  *  The  latter  was  translated  into  English,  and 
is  still  sung  in  many  chapels.  It  expresses  n  glowing  devotion^  as 
one  stanza — the  last — ^may  suffice  to  show : — 

Thee  will  I  love,  my  joy,  my  crown, 

Thee  will  I  love,  my  Lord,  my  God, 
Thee  will  I  love,  beneath  thy  frown. 

Or  smile, — thy  sceptre,  or  thy  rod . 
What  tboa^h  my  flesh  and  heart  decay  ? 
Thee  shall  1  love  in  endless  day  I 

Poetry  has  a  conciliatory  power,  and  sects  differ  less  in  their 
hymns  than  in  their  catechisms.  This  hymn,  written  by  *  a  Pan- 
theist,' who  was  afterwards  a  Franciscan  monk,  is  now  sung  in 
Wesleyan  chapels. 

Christian  Knorb  ton  Rosenroth,  who  died  in  1689,  was  a 
mystic  of  a  character  widely  different  from  that  of  the  Pietists. 
He  studied  alchemy  and  cabbalistic,  so-called  science.  His 
mysticism  is  generally  moderated,  or  we  may  say  veiled,  in  his 
sacred  lyrics,  of  which  several  are  translations  from  Latin. 
QuiRiinTS  KuHLMANN,  bom  at  Breslau  in  1651,  published  a  col- 
lection of  sacred  lyrical  poems  (1684),  which  contain  a  few  good 
passages,  and  many  extravagant  expressions.  He  is  now  remem- 
bered chiefly  on  account  of  his  miserable  death.  Having  indulged 
his  imagination  in  dreams  of  a  millennium,  he  wildly  endeavoured 
to  establish  it.  It  was  to  begin  with  a  union  of  Jews  and 
Christians,  and  to  preach  this  doctrine,  he  wandered  about  in  Eng- 
land, France,  Turkey,  and  Russia.  In  Moscow  his  fanatical  preach- 
ing gave  great  offence  to  the  Patriarch.  Kuhlmann  was  arrested 
and  irapriaoned  as  a  heretic,  and  after  a  short  trial  was  condemned 
to  be  burned  alive.  This  horrible  sentence  was  carried  into  exe- 
cution on  October  4, 1689. 


XI. J         SECULAB. LYRICAL  POETRY.         145 

Gerhabb  TsRSTEBGEir  (1697-1769),  one  of  the  latest  of  the 
Pietistic  hymn-writers  of  this  time,  was  a  poor  ribbon-weaver^  who 
lived  for  some  years  on  a  bare  diet  of  meal  and  milk-and-water, 
and  gave  away  his  savings  in  alms  to  people  who  were  even  poorer 
than  himself.  He  pablished  a  oollection  of  poems  under  the  title 
of '  A  Spiritual  Flower-Garden '  (1731).  It  has  no  great  variety  of 
thoughts,  butcontains  one  fine  hymn,  of  which  an  imitation  rather 
than  a  translation  was  included  ip  the  hymn-books  published  by 
John  and  Charles  Wesley.  The  second  stanza  has  been  thus 
translated : — 

Lo !  God  13  here !— him,  day  and  nighty 

The  united  choirs  of  angels  sing ; 
To  him,  enthroned  above  all  height. 

Heaven's  host  their  noblest  praises  bring: 
Diisdain  not.  Lord,  oar  meaner  song, 
Who  praise  thee  with  a  stammering  tongue. 

JoACHiu  Neastder  (1610-80)  was  called  '  the  Paul  Gerhardt 
of  the  Reformed  Church.'  Johann  Anastasius  FBETLiN&HATrsEK 
(1670-1789)  wrote  Pietistic  hymns,  and  published  in  1704,  and 
afterwards,  an  extensive  collection  of  hymn-tunes.  His  book 
shows  that  a  change  of  taste  had  taken  place  during  the  seven- 
teenth century,  with  regard  to  the  tunes  as  well  as  the  hymns 
sung  by  many  congregations.  While  the  hymns  were  made 
sentimental,  the  tunes  were  highly  decorated  or  disfigured. 
Several  of  the  more  florid  and  lively  melodies  given  by  Freyling- 
hausen  would  now  excite  great  surprise  if  introduced  in  public 
worship. 

If  a  great  prominence  has  been  here  given  to  the  hymn-writerS 
of  this  period,  it  has  been  because  their  writings  contain  more 
sincere  thought  and  feeling  than  can  be  found  in  the  greater  pait 
of  the  secular  poetry  of  these  times.  Flehiko,  who  wrote  at  the 
beginning  of  the  period,  and  Gxtntheb,  whose  poems  relieved  the 
dulness  of  its  close,  might  both  be  called  poets ;  but  in  the  interval 
defined  by  these  two  namer  there  are  found  but  few  verse- writers 
worthy  of  any  extended  notice. 

Flem DTo's  sonnets,  occasional  poems,  and  epistles  show  poelacal 
powers  far  superior  to  those  of  most  of  his  conteniporaries.  Ha 
was  comparatively  free  from  the  common  fault  of  the  age — writing 
for  the  sake  of  writing — ^and  his^oems  have  interesting  references 
to  the  events  of  his  times.    We  find  more  historical  than  poetical 

L 


146     OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.     [Oh. 

value  in  a  veTaified  '  Narrative  of  the  Thirty  Yeart*  War '  written 
by  GEOBe  GBEFLiNeEB,  who  died  in  1682.  Philipp  voir  Zxsef 
(161d-S9)  wrote  lively  songs  and  epigrams,  but  his  best  aervioea 
to  literature  were  his  writings  in  &vour  of  the  cultivation  of  hia 
native  language.  He  had,  however,  more  to  say  than  JoHAKif 
Ktbt  (1607-67),  who  was  little  better  than  a  rhymer,  though  he 
wrote  some  hymns  that  were  accepted  by  the  Church.  Philip? 
Habsdorffeb  (1607-59)^  who  wrote  '  Songs  and  Conversations  in 
Verse,'  may  be  commended  more  for  his  moral  purport  than  for  his 
powers  of  invention.  Friedrich  Cmsitz  (1654-99)  copied  the 
French  style  of  Boileau  in  several  satires.  His  verses  are  cold  and 
artificial;  but  he  wrote  neatly,  and  assisted  in  the  reformation 
begun  by  Opitz.  JoHAim  Besseb  (1664-1729)  was  a  small 
laureate  and  master  of  ceremonies  at  the  court  of  Dresden,  and 
devoted  to  these  offices  the  studies  of  his  life.  Many  of  his  venes 
are  adulatory ;  others  are  objectionable  in  purport,  but  were 
pridsed  in  their  day  for  their  neatness  of  expression.  Among 
several  of  the  descriptive  poets  of  these  timee  we  may  select  as  a 
representative  Babthold  Bbockes  (1680-1747),  who  wrote  poema 
of  no  high  merit,  expressing  his  delight  in  the  study  of  nature. 
A  flower-garden  might  have  supplied  all  the  materials  required 
for  such  poetry  aa  he  wrote.  He  would  acknowledge  the  receipt 
of  a  rare  tulip  by  writing  a  sonnet,  or  perhaps  an  ode,  on  ita 
beauties.  He  was  happy  in  his  mediocrity,  and  wrote  congratula* 
tory  verses  addressed  to  himself  on  his  birthdaya.  His  translations 
introduced  Thomson's  'Seasons'  and  Pope'a  ' Essay pn  Man'  to 
German  readers. 

All  the  aecond  or  third-rate  authors  thus  briefly  noticed  were 
more  respectable  than  those  who' belonged  to  the  Second  Sileeian 
Sch ool.  Ita  chief  represefltative,  Hoffxakk  voir  Hoffxa  vswalbait 
(1618-79),  wrote  lyrical  and  other  poems,  of  which  both  the  pur- 
port and  the  style  were  extremely  objectionable ;  the  former  was 
coarsely  sensuous,  the  latter  bombaatic  and  aflected.  There  might 
be  found  some  minor  merits,  with  regard  to  style,  in  some  of  the 
writers  briefly  noticed  in  the  preceding  pliragraphs ;  but,  on  the 
whole,  it  may  be  asserted  that  they  contributed  hardly  any  thoughts 
to  the  reaouroes  of  German  liteiatare.  At  the  close  of  their  dull 
period  a  youth  appeared  whose  writings  gave  promise  of  a  brighter 
day  for  poetry.  Chbistiait  GuIPtheb  (1696-1723)  wrote  several 
poema  founded  on  the  unh|ippy  incidents  of  his  own  abort  lifis. 


XI.]  BIDACTIO  AND  SATIBIOAL  VEBSE.  147 

His  early  follies  had  off^ided  hia  father,  who  would  not  forgive 
him,  and  GUnther,  left  without  hope,  became  intemperate.  After 
an  attempt  at  reformation  he  gained  some  patronage  at  the  Saxon 
court,  which  he  soon  lost,  and  later,  when,  apparently  penitent, 
he  returned  home  to  ask  for  his  father's  forgiveness,  he  was 
driven  out  into  the  world  again.  After  8ome*wretched  wanderings 
in  Silesia  he  died  in  miserable  circumstances.  His  poems  give 
proof  of  imaginative  powers  worthy  of  a  better  development 

Among  several  didactic  and  satiricid  authors  of  verse  Friedrich 
LoGAU  (1604-56)  was  the  best.  He  published  a  series  of  epi- 
grams in  1688,  and  another,  more  extensive,  in  1654.  Copies  of 
the  latter  have  now  become  very  rare.  Many  of  his  proverbs  and 
epigrams  are  rather  earnest  than  witty  or  pointed,  and  refer  to 
the  political  and  social  circumstances  of  his  time,  which  he  truly 
describes  as  deplorable.  The  following  is  one  of  Logau'a  shortest 
epigrams : —  [ 

Latheran",  Papists,  Calyinists  abound  ; 

fiat  where^  I  ask,  are  Christians  to  be  found  ? 

Hans  Wilhsen  LiTTBEMBEBa  (1500-1629)  was  among  the 
boldest  opponents  of  Opitz,  and  wrote  in  praise  of  the  Low  German 
language.  One  of  his  chief  rules  for  writing  well  is,  *  always  to 
call  a  spade  a  spade,'  and  he  observes  it  conscientiously.  He 
writes  with  great  freedom  and  liveliness,  «nd  introduces  popular 
stories  to  enforce  his  doctrine.  One  of  his  satires  is  well  directed 
against  the  rhyming  mania  of  his  times,  but  in  writing  it  he  was 
declaiming  against  himself.  Ajiother  satirist,  Joachim  Kachel 
(1618-63),  a  follower  of  Opitz,  feebly  imitated  Persius  and 
Juvenal.  In  one  of  his  best  pieces,  entitled  '  The  Poet/  he  pours 
contempt  on  the  poetasters  of  his  day ;  but  this  was  better  done 
in  a  prose  satire  published  by  JoHAinr  RnocxR  in  1678.  The 
following  is  a  specimen  of  Hiamer's  advice  to  the  poetasters  of  his 
times : — 

To  attain  facQity  you  must  keep  your  wits  in  practice  by  oontinuany 
making  verses  on  all  kinds  of  trivial  subjects ;  for  instance,  a  sonnet  *  on 
Ldsette's  new  straw  bonnet,'  or  a  canzonet  'on  Dumndula's  bodice.' 
'Cordelia's  nightcap'  may  suggest  materials  enough  to  fill  a  long  ode. 
Acquire  the  art  of  producing  rh3nmes  for  tbe  most  uncouth  words,  and  if 
you  are  obliged  to  use  nonsense  sometimes,  say  that  you  did  it  to  produce 
a  certain  droll  effect.  However  insignificant  your  verses  may  be,  never 
publish  them  without  some  high-sounding  tide,  suoh  as  '  Pamaaaian  Bridal- 
Toiches.'    Never  mind  about  the  sense  of  it,  if  it  is  only  pompous*  enough. 

l2 


148  OUTLENES  OP  GEKB£AN  UTERATUBE.  [Cb. 

Thongh  the  subject  of  your  poem  may  be  trivia],  take  care  to  write  a 
grand  introduction,  invoking  Apollo  and  all  the  nine  Mnses  to  come  to 
your  assistance  in  a  great* work.  Tliis  style  of  building  a  grand  entrance 
to  a  little  house  is  very  good  in  poetry.  Wlien  you  make  a  beginning, 
never  care  about  the  end :  they  will  match  together  in  some  way,  no 
doubt  Expletives  axe  too  much  despised  in  these  times.  Fill  3rour  verses 
with  them,  as  they  ar^  very  cheap.  Employ  also  as  many  allusions  to 
pagan  my tholog}*^  as  you  can  find ;  for  thus  you  may  £11  your  pages  with 
numerous  explanatory  notes  about  ancient  deities — Mars,  Vulcan,  and 
Venus — which  need  not  be  correct,  as  few  readers  trouble  themselves  about 
■ach  matters.  Use  two  or  three  words  instead  of  one  whenever  you  can ; 
for  instance,  style  nature  '  our  productive  mother,'  and  call  your  dog  '  the 
barking  quadruped.*  Never  blot  out  what  you  have  written ;  for  if  you  do 
not  esteem  highly  your* own  productions,  who  will?  Believe  all  that  your 
friends  and  adinirers  say,  and  praise  aU  who  praise  you.  If  a  friend  declares 
that  you  axe  *  the  Opitz  of  the  age,'  immediately  return  the  compliment  by 
styling  him  *  the  Fleming  of  his  time.' 

CHBiBTiAir  V^SBNiCEB,  who  died  about  1720,  was  a  critic  as 
well  as  a  satirist  and  published  a  series  of  epigrams  (1697)^  of 
which  several  were  directed  against  poetasters.  That  bis  pen  was 
as  sharp  in  the  point  as  Kiemer^s  will  be  seen  in  the  following 
brief  critique,  which  might  be  fairly  applied  to  many  of  the 
imitators  of  Opitz : — '  Tour  plan  is  good/  says  the  critic ;  your 
Terse,  fluent;  your  rhyme,  correct ;  your  grammar,  right;  'your 
meaning  is  nowhere  to  be  found.'  BENJAHnr  Nettkirch  (1665- 
1729),  another  satirist,  wrote  even  more  severely  again^  poet- 
asters ;  but  he  betrays  the  temper  of  a  disappointed  man.  He 
had  written  some  unsuccessful  odes  and  other  lyrical  poems. 
*  Writing  poetry  in  these  times,'  he  says,  '  is  the  way  to  star?a- 
tion,  as  I  know  well  by  experience.' 

The  literary  aspect  of  this  dull  period  does  not  improve  when 
we  turn  our  attention  to  the  drama.  Akdbeas  Gbtphiits,  already 
named  as  a  lyric  poet,  wrote  several  tragedies : — ^  Leo  Armenius ' 
(1646),  <Papinian '  (1659),  and  'Kiyrl  Stuart,'  which  was  founded 
on  the  fate  of  Charles  L  of  England.  These  dramas  have  been 
regarded  as  having  some  importance,  on  account  of  the  improve-; 
ments  which  they  introduced  in  plot  and  construction ;  but  their 
literaiy  character  is  low,  and  they  are  full  of  the  gloomy  senti- 
ments which  have  been  noticed  in  the  occasional  poems  of  the 
same  author.  Yet  through  all  the  disguise  of  false  taste  we  see 
some  evidences  of  rude,  undisciplined  power.  In  his  'Charles 
Stuart'  he  introduces  choruses  in  which  'Keligion'  and  other 
personiflcatioas  speak.    Many  of  the  sentiments  put  into  the 


XL]     '  THE  BBAMA.  149 

months  of  these  imaf^aiy  characten  aie  unjiiBi^  and  betray  the 
writer's  ignorance  of  the  state  of  parties  in  England ;  bnt  some  of 
the  declamations  employed  have  force  and  pointy  such  as  we  find 
in  the  following  passage : — 

Rdiffion  »pettk$. 

Being  Sapreme  I  whom  eye  all  souls  can  see ; 

Whose  service  is  pure,  self-denying  lore ; 
Why  in  this  world  hast  thou  commanded  me 

To  stay  ?    Receive  me  in  yon  realms  above  t 
Why  'mid  the  sons  of  Mesech  must  I  dwell? 

Alas  that  I  in  Kedar's  tents  abide  I 
Where  evil-minded  men  would  me  compel 

To  aid  them,  and  their  traitorons  schemes  to  hide. 
Alas  that  e'er  ttom  heaven  I  hither  came  I 

My  robes  are  stained  with  earthly  spots ;  my  fiuse 
No  longer  with  pure  brightness  shines;  my  name 

Is  used  for  falsehood,  covered  with  disgnoe. 
•  •  •  • 

Open,  ye  elonds  I  receive  me  now,  ye  skies  I 

I  fly  from  earth,  and  leave  my  robe  behind. 
Which  still  may  serve  some  traitors  for  disguises 

Tis  bat  a  shadow  of  myself  they'll  flnd^ 

(JEUligion  JUet  from  the  earihj  and  drops  her  robe.") 

Hrwt  Zealot,  Stay,  fairest  maid  I  why  hasten  yon  away? 
Second,  I  hold  yon  fast.    I  love  yonr  bright  array. 
Third.  Kay ;  she  is  gone  !    Her  empty  robe  you  hold  I 
Stcnnd.  Well ;  this  is  mine.    It's  worth  can  ne'er  be  told ! 
Fourth.  Some  portion  of  it  fairly  mine  I  call  I 
JFint,  Your  strife  is  vain;  for  I  most  have  it  alL 
Itfih.  The  robe  is  torn. 
Sixth.  No  part  of  it  is  thine  I 

For  it  is  mine. 
Seventh,  And  mine ! 

Eighth,    .  And  mine 

Ninth,  And  mine ! 

Gryphius  was  a  man  of  gloomy  temperament;  yet  his  come- 
dies are  better  than  his  tragedies.  In  his  drama  oddly  entitled 
'  Horribiliscribrifax '  he  gives  some  portraitures  of  the  rude  military 
manners  introduced  by  the  war^  and  ridicules  the  confusion  of 
tongues  that  prevailed  in  his  day.  One  character  in  the  play  is  a 
schoolmaster  who  talks  in  bad  Latin ;  another  mixes  Italian  with 
German ;  a  third  uses  French  idioms,  and  a  Jew  mingles  Platt- 
deutsch  with  Hebrew.  The  author's  best  dramatic  writing  is 
found  in  the  interlude  of  Domrose,  inserted  in  his  melodrama 
Dm  verUMe  Qespemt,    His  writings  are  respectable,  when  can* 


150  OXTTLDSOSSa  OF  aSKUAK  UTEBATUBE.  [Ca. 

trasted  with  those  of  »  dramatist  who  must  now  be  briefly 
noticed.  Bajsusl  Caspa.r  voir  Lohenstein  (1636-83),  one  of 
the  chief  lepreseatatives  of  the  Second  Silesian  School,  wrote 
atrocious  and  bombastic  plays,  of  which  no  analysis  can  be  given. 
A  German  critic — Prof.  Max  Miiller — has  truly  siud  that  it  is  the 
duty  of  a  literary  historian  to  consign  to  obUvion  the  writings  of 
the  two  chiefs  of  the  Second  Silesian  School ;  but  Lohenstein*8 
plays— 'Ibrahim  Bassa'  (1689), 'Cleopatra' (1661), 'Epicharis' 
and  '  Agrippina/  the  worst  of  the  series — ^may  be  named  as  signs 
of  the  degradation  of  the  theatre  during  these  times.  It  may  be 
safely  predicted  that  dramatic  entertainments  will  never  fall 
below  the  tone  of  the  German  theatre  in  the  days  of  Lohenstein ; 
it '  sounded  the  lowest  base-string  of  humility.'  Such  curiosilies 
as  '  fire- works,'  *  cannonades,* '  regiments  of  soldiers  in  the  cos- 
tumes of  various  nations,'  and  capital  punishment  executed  on  the 
stage,  were  admired.  Mars,  Venus,  Apollo,  Fame,  Peace,  Virtue, 
Vice,  France,  Spain,  and  Italy,  were  introduced  as  dramatic 
characters.  In  one  piece '  Judas  hangs  himself  on  the  stage,  while 
Satan  sings  an  aria.'  In  another  opera  Nebuchadnezzar  exhibits 
himself  dressed  in  '  eagles*  feathers.'  In '  Semiramis '  the  roses  in 
the  royal  garden  are  metamorphosed  into  ladies.  In  'Jason '  the 
ship  Argo  is  raised  into  the  heavens,  and  changed  into  a  constella- 
tion. 'Echo'  was  a  favourite  theatrical  character.  In  one  of 
Lohenstein's  pieces  the  'continent  of  Asia-  is  introduced  as  a 
person  deploring  her  calamities. 

When  con^asted  wi^h  liohenstein's  plays,  the  dramatic  pieces 
written  in  prose  by  Ohbistian  Wbisb  (1642-1708)  might  be 
called  respectable.  His  scenes  are  derived  from  real  life,  but  his 
style  is  prosaic  and  trivial  He  wrote  several  romances,  in  which 
his  didactic  purport  was  more  prominent  than  his  inventive 
power. 

These  notices  of  versifiers  have  told  us  very  little  of  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  oi  the  common  people,  who  still  had  their  own  lite- 
rature, though  it  was  scantier  than  in  older  times.  Its  chief 
materials  were  old  jest-books  and  new  prophetic  almanacs.  The 
folly  satirised  by  Fischart  had  increased  rather  than  abated,  and 
we  find  popular  preachers  complaining  that  the  peasantry  had 
more  faith  in  their  almanacs  than  in  the  Bible.  Few  of  the 
people's  songs  of  the  time  have  been  preserved,  and  these  are 
mostly  soldieia'  songs.    One  of  the  most  characteristic  is  called 


XL]  FOPULAB  SONGS  ANB  BAT.T.ATCL  151 

'The  Soldiers'  Paternoster/  in  which  lines  of  verse  are  inserted 
between  the  short  sentences  of  the  Lord's  Prayer ;  so  that  the 
whole  reads  as  a  bitter  protest  against  the  wrongs  inflicted  on  the 
peasants  by  marauders.  The  only  plea  that  can  be  offered  for  this 
strange  composition  is  that  there  is  no  leyity^  but  rather  stem 
indignation,  in  its  tone.     * 

The  most  common  fault  of  the  historical  ballads  of  the  time  is 
their  inordinate  length;  the  writers  try  to  tell  everything.  In 
one  of  the  shortest  we  have  a  tragic  tale  of  two  soldiers  returning 
from  the  war.  One,  who  brings  some  booty  with  him^  is  un- 
recognised when  he  enters  his  father's  house,  a  village  tavern : — 

The  hoBten»  a  woman  with  eoal-b1a<±  hair. 
Stood  looking  ont  of  the  window  there  ( 
He  gave  to  her.  Wore  he  dinedf 
His  heavy  bel^  with  gold  well  lined. 

Li  fhe  morning  his  corpse  was  found  in  the  oellar,  and  his 
eomrade  thus  addressed  the  landlady: — 

Woman,  yon  know  not  what  you've  done— 
The  mardered  man  was — ^your  own  son  I 

On  hearing  this,  the  wretched  woman  escaped  from  the  house 
and  drowned  herself,  and  soon  aflerwards— 

Her  man  in  the  stable  hanged  himselt 
O  corsed  gold  and  love  of  pelf  I 

One  of  the  best  of  these  Soldiers'  Songs  tells  Of  the  exploits  of 
the  great  Austrian  General|  Prince  Eugdne^  and  is  still  remem- 
bered by  the  people. 


152  OUTLINES  OF  0EEUAN  UTEEiLTUEE.  [Oe. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 
FIFTH  PERIOD.    1625-1725. 

FBOSB  FICTION  —  HI8T0BT — THB  THIRTY  TEABS'   WAB — TBA.TELR-—  . 
LSTTEBS— DIDACnC  FBOSE — ^FIBTISX — LEIBNITZ — VOLF. 

The  prose  written  in  thia  period  is  mostly  ragged  in  style,  some- 
times half-foreign,  and  deformed  by  affectation  and  pedantry ;  but 
it  contains  interesting  references  to  historical  events,  and  some 
contributions  to  our  knowledge  of  the  state  of  society  in  Germany 
during  the  darkest  years  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

Among  a  few  noticeable  books  in  prose  fiction  the  romance  of 
SimpUcMmus  (1669),  by  Haks  Jakob  Chiustoph  voir  Qbimmels-  . 
HAUBXN  (1625-76),  claims  attention,  especially  for  its  references  to 
contemporary  historical  events.  In  several  parts  of  the  story  we 
find  interesting,  though  occasionally  rude,  pictures  of  life  in  Germany 
during  the  miserable  war  of  thirty  years.  The  author  had,  during 
his  youth,  served  in  the  army ;  but  he  spent  his  later  years  at 
Henchen,  in  the  Baden  district  of  the  Black  Forest.  He  hnd  the 
humour  of  assuming  several  names  on  the  title-pages  of  his  satiri- 
cal stories ;  so  that  his  real  name  long  remained  unknown.  He 
represents  his  hero— the  son  of  a  poor  Spessart  farmer — aa  a  vaga- 
bond who,  under  the  mask  of  simplicity,  satirises  the  vices  of 
society,  especially  the  demoralisation  of  militaiy  men.  There  is 
genial  humour  in  parts  of  the  story ;  but  the  descriptions  are  often 
too  lengthy,  as  a  passage  from  the  introduction  would  show,  if 
given  without  any  abridgement.  Here  the  Spessart  fEurmer^  son 
ridicules  the  pride  of  many  men  of  higher  birth  :^ 

My  fiither*8  mansion  was  bailt  by  his  own  hands,  vhich  is  more  than  can 
be  said  for  the  palaces  of  princes.  In  some  details  of  architecture  my  father 
had  a  peculiar  taste.  For  instance,  he  decorated  the  exterior  of  his  building 
with  plaster ;  and  for  the  roof,  instead  of  barren  tiles,  lead,  or  copper,  he  used  a 
good  thatch  of  straw,  thus  displaying  his  love  of  agriculture  in  a  style  worthy 


Xn.]  PEOSE  FICTION.  163- 

of  a  descendant  from  the  fint  nobleman  who  tilled  the  ground— Adam.  In  the 
painting  of  the  interior  my  father  allowed  his  walls  to  become  slowly 
darkened  with  the  smoke  from  our  wood  fire.  There  was  an  aristocratic 
reason  for  this ;  for  the  colour  reqoires  a  long  time  to  produce  it  in  its  full 
tone ;  and  it  is  c^tainly  one  of  the  most  permanent  styles  of  paintiog. 
Our  windows  were  all  dedicated  to  St.  Noglass ;  for  as  it  takes  a  longer 
time  to  grow  horn  than  to  make  glass,  my  father  preferred  the  former.  I 
hardly  need  remind  the  reader  that  this  preference  was  in  strict  accordance 
with  that  refined  aristocratic  taste  which  values  trifles  according  to  the 
time  and  trouble  required  to  produce  them.  My  £ither  kept  no  lackeys, 
pages,  or  grooms,  but  was  always  surrounded  by  his  faithfid  dependents  ; 
sheep,  goats,  and  swine,  all  dressed  in  their  natural  and  becoming  suits  of 
livery.  ...  In  our  armoury  we  had  the  weapons  which  my  father  had 
often  boldly  carried  to  the  field ;  mattocks,  hoes,  shovels,  and  hay-forks, 
such  weapons  as  were  employed  even  by  the  ancient  Romans  during  times 
Of  peace.  My  father  wab  noted  for  his  science  in  *  fortification '  (against 
his  great  enemy,  hunger),  which  was  displayed  in  his  distribution  of  the 
contents  of  the  farmyard  on  the  land  ....  or  cleaning  out  the  stalls  of  the 
cattle.  I  tell  these  things,  to  show  that  I  can  be  in  fashion,  and  talk  like 
other  people  when  I  like ;  but  I  assure  the  reader  that  I  am  not  pufi'ed  up 
and  vain  of  my  glorious  ancestry. 

The  Spessart  farmer  is  murdered  by  a  band  of  plnndering 
soldiers ;  but  Simplicissimus,  now  only  ten  years  old,  escapes,  and 
goes  to  live  with  a  hermit^  from  whom  heYeceives  some  religious  ^ 
teaching.  After  the  death  of  the  hermit  the  boy  is  carried  off  bj 
Swedish  soldiers,  and  serves  for  some  time  as  a  page  to  an  olficer ; 
then  runs  away  and  hides  himself  in  a  forest  Here  he  pretends 
to  be  a  pious  hermit,  while  he  supports  himself  by  means  of  theft. 
When  these  resources  have  failed,  he  enters  the  Imperial  army, 
where  he  can  plunder  with  impunity.  This  part  of  the  story  de- 
scribes the  license  of  the  soldiery  and  the  sufferings  of  the  helpless 
people,  whose  stores  served  as  plunder  for  the  Imperial  and  the 
Protestant  armies,  with  all  their  disinterested  foreign  allies.  Our 
hero  next  falls  as  a  prisoner  into  the  hands  of  the  Swedes ;  but 
here  meets  with  good  treatment,  and  becomes  ere  long  compara- 
tivelj  rich.  Then  follows  an  unfortunate  marriage  and  the  loss 
of  all  his  money,  which  compel  him  to  turn  quack-doctor  and 
beggar.  He  returns  to  Germauy,  gains  some  money  by  dishonesty, 
buys  a  little  farm  and  marries — again  unhappily.  Once  more  he 
becomes  a  vagabond,  and  after  a  series  of  wanderings  and  adven- 
tures, that  we  cannot  follow,  is  at  last  made  quite  weary  of  the 
pomps  and  vanities  of  this  world.  He  retires  to  a  hermit's  cell  on 
a  desert  island,  and  devotes  himself  exclusively  to  the  practice  of 
piety.    He  has  a  chance  of  escaping  from,  his  fiolitude^  when  a  ship 


154  OUTUNES  0¥  GEEMAN  UTEEATUEE.  [Ck. 

calls  at  the  island ;  but  he  'wisely  refuses  to  return  to  audi  society 
as  exists  in  his  native  land,  and  so  the  tale  is  ended. 

This  story  of  a  man  living  on  a  desert  island  was  published 
about  twenty  years  before  Defoe's  tale  of  '  Robinson  Crusoe '  ap- 
peared in  England.  The  latter  romance,  however,  was  the  original, 
imitated  in  about  forty  German  stories  of  hermits,  that  were  pub- 
lished between  the  years  1721  and  1761 ;  such  as  'The  German 
Robinson,' '  The  Italian,'  *  The  SUesian,' '  The  Moral/  'The  Medical/ 
The  Invisible  Robinson/  and  'The  European  Robinsonetta ' — ^the 
last  telling  the  adventures  of  a  solitary  lady.  One  of  the  best  of 
all  these  imitations — '  The  Island  of  Felsenburg/  written  by 
Lttdwio  Schhabel  in  1743— had  a  remarkable  success.  The 
earliest  German  story  of  a  hermit  like  Crusoe  is  found  in 
'  Mandarell,'  written  by  EsERHiiBD  Wsbneb  Happel,  and  pub- 
lished in  1682,  about  thirty-seven  years  before  Defoe's  story  ap- 
peared. 

The  miseries  of  the  sear  must  have  been  widely  spread ;  for  we 
find  them  noticed  even  in  such  pastoral  fantasias  as  were  called 
Schd/eteien — the  most  unreal  of  all  the  productions  of  the  age. 
Nothing  less  than  the  outlines  of  one  of  the^e  pastorals  could  give 
a  notion  of  their  inane  character.  A  sad  shepherd,  expelled  from 
his  home  by  soldiers,  wanders,  accompanied  only  by  his  faithful 
dog,  along  the  banks  of  the  river  Pegnitz,  near  Niirnberg.  He 
begins  to  sing,  of  course ;  but  his  melody  is  soon  interrupted  by 
that  of  another  swain,  and  arrangements  are  made  for  performing 
a  duetto.  Enters  '  Pamela,'  a  sad  shepherdess,  who,  as  a  personi- 
fication of  Germany,  sings  dolefully  of  the  miseries  of  warfare. 
After  some  vain  endeavours  to  afford  consolation  to  '  Pamela,'  the 
two  shepherda  wander  away  along  the  banks  of  the  stream,  until 
they  come  to  a  paper-mill.  Here  they  sit  dovni  and  make  some 
very  bad  verses  on  the  mill-wheel  and  on  the  noise  of  the  water- 
fall. The  first  swain  endeavours  to  imitate  the  sounds  he  hears 
and  the  second  composes-  linei|  that  may  be  printed  in  the  shape  of 
an  anviL  For  some  reason,  not  mentioned,  they  then  climb  a  hill 
near  Niirnberg,  and  obtain  a  view  over  a  fertile  district.  The 
goddess  'Fame  appears,  bringing*  a  wreath  of  laurel,  to  crown  the 
maker  of  the  best  verses  upon  the  wedding  of  some  young  people 
of  whom  we  know  nothing.  The  sad  shepherds  sing  alternately, 
and  when  at  last  it  is  decided  that  their  effusions  are  equally  good 
—or  bad — Fame  flies  away,  and  no  more  is  heard  of  '  Pamela^'  the 


XIL]  PEOSe  fiction.  155 

desponding persooificaiion  of  Gennany.  Sucb  imaginatire  attempts 
as  these  Schafereien  driye  the  reader  away  from  fiction,  and  make 
him  indalgent  to  even  the  rudest  attempts  at  de.4cribing  realities. 

JoHAVN  Michael  Mosxnrosh — otherwise  called  Moscheroseh 
— (1601-09),  was  descended  from  a  noble  Spanish  family,  and 
lost  all  his  property  during  the  war.  His  boolc,  entitled  ^  The 
Vieions  of  Pldlander '  (1642),  is  partly  founded  on  the  '  Suenos  ' 
of  Queyedo ;  but  tiie  last  seyen  yisions  of  Philander,  written  in 
1641-44^  are  mostly  original,  and  contain  seyerely  satirical  pas* 
sages,  with  sketches  from  real  life  during  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 
The  writer  knew  by  experience  something  of  the  horrors  of  civil 
war,  and  wrote  with  feelings  of  personal  hatred.  In  one  yision 
Philander  is  seized  by  a  gang  of  soldiers,  engaged  in  a  foray 
on  their  own  account,  who  show  no  mercy,  saye  to  those  who 
buy  it  with  gold.  The  Croats,  Walloons,  and  other  soldiers  of  the 
Imperial  army  are  described  in  language  that  cannot  be  quoted-^- 
as  sheep  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy ;  as  wolyes,  when  tbey  are 
turned  loose  to  rob  the  peasantry ;  as  marauders  worthy  of  being 
led  by  a  rapacious  and  treacherous  adyenturer.  Writers  of  fiction 
could  hardly  be  guilty  of  exaggeration  when  describing  some  of 
the  eyents  of  those  dreadful  years  from  1618  to  1648,  aboye  all 
the  atrocious  sack  of  Magdeburg.  In  the  space  of  one  year — 1646 
— a  hundred  yillages  were  burned  down  in  Bayaria.  In  the 
course  of  the  long  war,  the  population  of  Augsburg  was  reduced 
from  eighty  thousand  to  eighteen  thousand,  while  the  devastation 
was  &r  greater  in  the  Rheinpfalz,  where,  in  some  districts,  only 
about  a  fiftieth,  part  of  the  former  population  remained. 

The  events  of  his  time  had,  possibly,  some  efiect  on  the  ima- 
gination of  an  inferior  writer  of  fiction,  Aksreas  Heiitrich 
BircHHOLXZ  (1607-71),  who  wrote  'Herkules  and  Valiska,'  an 
absurd  romance,  with  scenes  Jaid  in  almost  al\  the  known  coim- 
tries  of  the  world,  and  full  of  battles,  hardly  one  of  which  ends 
with  a  loss  of  less  than  three  hundred  thousand  men  on  the  side 
of  the  defeated  army.  Though  he  described  such  awful  cata- 
strophes, the  style  of  Buchholtz  is  tame  when  contrasted  with 
that  of  his  successor,  Heinbich  Asseul  (16^^97),  the  Lohen- 
stein  of  prose.  His  romance,  '  The  Asiatic  Banise,'  begins  with 
this  passage : — '  May  lightning,  thunder,  and  hail — the  wrathful 
instruments  of  Heayen — crush  the  splendoura  of  thy  gilded  towers, 
ftud  may  the  yengeance  of  the  gods  consume  thy  wealthy  O  city  I 


156  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAK*  UTERATUEE.  [Ck. 

whose  inhabitants  were  gnilty  of  the  overthrow  of  the  Imperial 
Faniily ! '  This  must  have  been  thought  fine  in  that  day ;  for 
Anselm's  book  was  very  popular,  and  its  success  encouraged  him 
to  write  (in  1691)  sixteen  stories  founded  on  the  Old  Testament, 
containing  not  only  '  the  love-letters  of  Abraham  and  Sarah/  but 
also  such  as  passed  between  Adam  and  Eve  1 

LoHENSTBiK — ^already  noticed  as  a  bombastic  dramatist— wrote, 
in  tedious  prose,  an  enormous  romance  in  four  parts,  filling  almost 
three  thousand  quarto  pages,  and  entitled  '  Arminius  and  Thus- 
nelda'  (1731).  One  of  his  objects  in  writing  it  was  *  to  include 
the  whole  history  of  the  German  people.'  Its  table  o.  contents 
fills  ninety-six  closely  printed  quarto  pages. 

It  is  some  relief  to  turn  from  such  a  heavy  compilation  of  fiction 
to  the  historical  works  of  Masoov,  Birken,  Arnold,  and  Zingre^ 
though  these  writers  were  generally  inferior  to  the  chroniclers  of 
earlier  times.  Johakit  Jakob  Mascov  (1689-1761)  wrote  a '  His- 
tory of  the  Oerman  People '  (1726-37),  which  extended  no  farther 
than  the  Merovingian  kings.  A  '  History  of  the  House  of  Austria^' 
compiled  by  Siohund  von  Bibksn  (1623-^1)  has  some  value, 
though  it  was  written  in  submission  to  Imperial  authority.  Gott- 
FRTRD  Arnold  undertook  a  very  difficult  task  in  his  '  Impartial 
Church  History '  (1699).  His  chief  object  was  to  defend  several 
sects  that  had  been  condemned  for  heresy,  and  to  find  out  their 
real  tenets.    Hardly  any  task  could  be  more  hopeless  than  this. 

The  materials  for  a  history  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War  are  but 
imperfectly  supplied  by  the  vernacular  literature  of  this  period. 
Philipp  von  Chemnitz  (1605-78),  historiographer  to  Queen 
Christina  of  Sweden,  wrote  more  ably  in  Latin  than  in  German, 
and  left  in. manuscript  a  history  of  'the  Swedish  War  in  Gor- 
many,'  which  was  published  .at  Stockholm  in  1855-9.-  Under 
the  assumed  name  of  Hippolitus.a  Lapidb,  he  published,  in 
1640,  a  remarkable  treatise  exposing  some  abuses  of  Imperial 
privilepres.  But  we  must  refer  to  several  comparatively  obscure 
hidtories,  as  well  as  to  letters,  special  memoirs,  and  woiks  of  fiction, 
to  find  a  popular  instead  of  a  political  narration  of  the  war  that 
dev»<tated  large  districts  of  Germany  in  1618-48.  One  of  the 
most  interesting  of  the  special  memoire  here  referred  to  is  an  ac- 
count of  *  The  Sack  of  Magdeburg,'  written,  about  1660,  by  Frtbi)- 
BICH  Fbisius,  an  eye-witness  of  the  events  which  he  described. 
In  his  story,  and  in  some  other  historical  documents  of  about  the 


.]  THE  THIETY  TEAEff  WAB.  157 

same  date,  we  have  the  horrors  ol  the  war  brought  into  » focus 
and  presented  as  realities,  stripped  of  the  disguise  that  cold^  ab- 
stract history  supplies..  All  the  public  buildings  of  Magdeburg  in 
flames,  except  the  cathedral  and  th^  old  conyent;  hundreds  of 
people  of  all  ages  dying  in  streets  heated  like  an  oven  by  a  con- 
flagration, driven  on  by  a  strong  wind ;  marauders  pouring  in  at 
the  Hamburg  gate— some  carrying  bullets  in  their  mouths  for 
ready  use,  and  shooting  down  the  people  '  like  so  many  beasts  of 
prey;'  superior 'officers  extorting  from  fathers  of  families  their 
last  dollar ;  gangs  of  Walloon  and  Croatian  soldiers  bursting  into 
houses  with  hoarse  cries  of  '  Your  money  I '  and  terrifled  women 
swiftly  turning,  out  their  hoards  of  silver  spoons  and  trinkets,  to 
save  their  lives ;  in  all  the  houses  '  everything  burst  open  and 
cut  to  pieces ; '  companies  of  girls  and  young  women  rushing  to 
the  bridge  over  the  Elbe,  linking  their  hands  together,  and  leaping 
down  into  the  river; — these  are  a  few  of  the  scenes  brought 
before  our  vision  by  the  testimony  of  eye- witnesses.  Thirty 
thousand  people  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages  perished  in  that  sack- 
ing of  Magdeburg  in  the  spring  of  1631. 

Twice  in  the  course  of  the  war  the  Emperor  had  gained  a  vic- 
torious position,  and  had  the  power  of  making  peac^  between  the 
two  chief  parties;  but  after  that  sack  of  Magdeburg  his  forces 
seemed  to  be  controlled. by  an  evil  destiny.  The  Imperial  army, 
guilty  of  that  atrocious  massacre,  was  put  to  the  rout  by  the 
King  of  Sweden^  and  Tilly,  its  commander — who  had  been  called 
the  winner  of  thirty-six  battles — was  soon  afterwards  mortally 
wounded.  He  was  a  man  of  strict  piety,  according  to  his  notions — 
attended  mass  daily  and  recited  many  prayers.  The  watch-word 
in  his  army  at  the  sack  of  Magdeburg  was  '  Jesu,  Maria.'  His 
fall  compelled  the  Emperor  to  call  out  Wallenstein,  who  formed  a 
new  army,  but  failed  to  prevent  the  victory  of  the  Swedes  at 
Lixtzen,  where  their  king  was  slain  in  1632.  There  also  fell 
Pappenheim,  rejoicing  when  he  knew  that  *  the  heretic '  from 
Sweden  was  slain.  Pappenheim  was  the  most  impetuous  and 
fearless  of  all  the  Imperial  generals,  but  as  ruthless  as  he  was 
brave.  In  one  month  in  1626  he  slew  forty  thousand  of  the 
peasantry,  in  order  to  quell  an  insulrection,  and  afterwards  wrote 
a  calm  narrative  of  the  campaign.  After  the  defeat  at  LUtzen  the 
Emperor's  army  was  allowed  to  f^main  almost  idle,  while  its  com- 
mander was  negotiating  for  the  sale  of  his  services  to  the  enemy. 


158  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  LTTEEATUBE.  [Ch. 

Wallenstein's  dark  plans  were  interrupted  by  his  death  in  1634, 
when  he  fell  by  the  hands  of  asflaasins,  who  were  richly  rewarded  by 
the  Emperor.  In  the  miserable  time  afte^  Wallenstein's  fall  the 
war  became  more  and  more  complicated  by  Swedish  and  French  in- 
terventions. Catholic  France  aided  the  Protestants,  in  order  to 
divide  Germany,  and  at  last  the  Peace  of  Westphalia  (1648)  left 
the  Imperial  power  prostrate.  A  Diet,  with  cumbrous  forms, 
devised  to  make  union  for  eveir  hopeless,  represented  the  extinct 
empire.  Petty  princes  were  made  absolute.  Germany  lost  two 
provinces  and  was  shut  in  from  the  sea.  Trade,  industry,  and 
education  were  almost  destroyed.  Hardly  a  third  part  of  its 
former  population  remained  in  Bohemia,  where  the  g^reat  strife 
began  and  ended.  The  Thirty  Years'  War  had  an  effect  on  the 
national  life  and  the  literature  of  the  German  people  so  disastrous 
and  permanent,  that  these  few  notes  must  not  be  regarded  as  out  of 
place  here.  They  would  serve  as  an  apology  for  the  non-appear- 
ance of  any  literature  whatever  in  these  sad  times. 

Among  the  few  books  of  travels  and  descriptions  of  foreign 
countries  produced  in  this  period,  the  most  interesting  vfas  written 
by  Adah  Olbabivs  (1600-71).  He  attended,  as  secretary, 
embassies  to  ^Russia  and  Persia,  acquired  a  knowledge  of  the 
Persian  language,  translated  the  Guliddn  (pt  'Rose-Garden') 
of  S&di,  and  wrote,  with  care  and  honesty,  an  account  of  his  own 
travels  (1647). 

One  of  the  more  important  collections  of  letters  having  an  his- 
torical interest  contains  the  correspondence  of  Chablotte  Eliza- 
beth, the  Duchess  of  Orleans  (1652>1722;,  who  lived  about  fifty 
years  at  the  court  of  her  brother-in-law,  Louis  XIV.  She  describes, 
in  her  rude  German  style,  the  state  of  society  in  France,  and  pre* 
diets  that  a  social  disruption  must  follow  the  vices  of  her  times. 
The  Duchess  was  a  woman  of  honest  and  masculine  character, 
which  it  was  her  pleasure  to  assert  by  wearing  a  man's  dress  when 
she  accompanied  the  great  monarch  in  his  hunting  excursions. 

Of  didactic  prose- writings — apart  from  theology — little  can  be 
eaid.  Gsobo  Sghottel  preceded  Wolf  as  a  writer  on  ethics,  and 
Ltjdwio  yok  Seckxkdobf,  the  author  of  a  book  '  On  the  German 
Empire,'  was  one  of  the  earli^t  writers  on  the  theory  of  govern- 
ment A  work  on  <  Architecture,  Sculpture,  and  Painting '  by 
JoACfliK  TOK  Sakbrabt  1606-88)  has  been  commended  rather 
for  its  copper-plate  engravings  than  for  its  style,  and  a  ^  History  ot 


XIL]  DIDACTIC  PROSK  159 

tLe  German  Lanpfiiage '  (1718-20)  by  Attgtjstik  Eoehholf  can 
be  noticed  unly  as  a  well-intended  attempt.  Another  writer  on 
philology — ScHTJPP — deserves  more  attention ;  for  he  was  one  of 
the  earliest  protesters  against  pedantry,  and  might  be  described  as 
a  pioneer  who  prepared  the  way  for  Thomasias  and  Wolf. 

JBalthasar  Schtjpp  (1610-61),  if  preacher  at  Ilftmbur^,  con- 
demned the  half-German  and  half-Latin  language  written  by  men 
who  were  called  erudite.  We  cannot  be  surprised  at  the  poverty 
of  prose-writinga  in  law,  ethics,  theology,  and  philosophy  when 
we  find  Schupp  apologising  thus  for  writing  and  speaking  in  his 
own  language : — 

Wisdom  ifl  not  confined  to  any  langasge ;  and  therefore  I  ask,  Why 
may  I  not  learn  in  German  how  to  know,  love,  and  serve  God — that  ia, 
theology  ?  Or  if  I  wish  to  study  medicine,  why  may  I  not  learn  how  to 
discern  and  cure  diseases  aa  well  in  German  as  in  Greek  and  Arabic  ?  The 
French  and  the  Italians  employ  their  native  langaages  in  teaching  all  the 
arts  and  sciences.  There  are  many  gi'eat  cardinals  and  prelates  in  Home 
who  cannot  speak  Latin ;  and  whv  may  not  a  man,  though  ignorant  of 
Latin  and  Greek,  become  a  good  German  preacher  ?  I  know  he  may ;  for 
when  I  studied  at  Leyden,  a  new  preacher  was  appointed  to  the  pulpit  of 
the  Lutheran  congres^ation  there.  He  bad  been  a  painter,  and  had  no 
advantages  of  classical  education  ;  so  many  of  the  genteel  students  of  law 
made  jests  on  this  preacher,  because  he  ventured  t4>  ascend  the  pulpit  before 
he  had  mastered  Latin.  However,  he  understood  the  Scriptures  well,  and 
I  was  more  enified  by  his  plain  homilies  than  by  the  sermons  of  many 
learned  and  Latinised  professors. 

Schupp's  censure  of  the  German-Roman  jargon  used  in  his  day, 
and  afterwards,  will  hardly  be  understood  without  a.  specimen. 
A  short  extract  from  Gundling's  'Discourse  on'  History  *  (pub- 
lished in  1737)  will  show  that  the  style  condemned  by  Schupp 
prevailed  for  some  time  after  his  death.  We  substitute  English 
for  German,  and  leave  the  Latin  where  Gundling  inserts  it : — 

Not  only  Cicero,  but  all  sensible  men  have  agreed  in  saying  that  historla 
is  magistra  scholaque  vits;  for  even  the  stulti,  as  well  as  the  sapientes, 
may  profit  by  this  study  :  the  latter  may  gain  by  it,  ut  caveant  ab  artiticilSi 
atultomm,  qun  detegit,  aperitque  historla.  .It  also  supplies  practice  for 
logic ;  versatur  enim  circa  distinguenda  vero  similia  a  vero  diasimilibus. 

After  this  Gnndlmg,  with  practice,  might  have  pronounced  'a 
leasb  of  languages  at  once.  *  For  preliminary  exercises  on  two 
languages,  he  might  have  found  models  in  the  sermons  of  one  of 
the  most  popular  lloman  Catholic  preachers  of  the  seventeenth 
century — Ulbich  MsaxBLS,  otherwise  called  Abbahak  jl  Sakta 


160  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.  [Ch. 

Clasa.  (1642-1709),  who  preached  very  fluently  in  fm  odd  mix- 
ture of  German  and  Latin.  His  thoughts^  like  his  words,  made  a 
medley ;  for  he  mingled  puns,  jokes,  and  droll  stories  with  very 
severe  admonitiuns.  One  of  his  paragraphs,  if  rightly  punctuatedi 
would  fill  more  than  a  large  octavo  page  without  onod  coming  to 
a  full  stop.  With  all  his  eccentricity,  he  was  a  practical  and 
earnest  teacher.  His  style  must  be  allowed  to  describe  itsel£ 
Thus  he  addresses  his  hearers  on  the  text, '  O  ye  foolish  Gala- 
tiaosl' 

Tonr  preacher  is  treated  now  as  St  Paul  was  treated.  The  Galatians,  at 
one  time,  regarded  him  as  an  earthly  anprel,  and  listened  to  him  with 
delight,  as  if  his  voice  ha'd  heen  a  celestial  tmmpet.  .  .  .  But  when  he 
began  to  preach  severely  and  to  say,  O  insensati  GalatsB !  .  .  .  then  all 
turned  against  him  ;  inimicus  factus  sum  vobis  veritatem  dicens.  And  so 
it  remains  now  :  as  long  as  your  preacher  gives  you  pretty  sayings— :well 
decked  out  and  made  pleasant  with  proverbs  and  stories— you  are  all  well 
pleased,  and  yon  say,* Vi vat  Pater!  a  brave  man!  I  hear  him  with 
delight ; '  hut  when  be  begins  to  speak  sharply  and  says,  *  O  insensati 
Germani ! '  he  makes  enemies  for  himself  and  sic  facta  eat  veritaa  in  aver- 
sionem.  .  •  • 

* 

This  style  was  described  as  '  Mischmasch '  by  L^rsiriTZ  in  an 
essay  'On  the  Improvement  of  the  German  Language.'  He  ad- 
mitted the  wealth  of  his  mother-tongue  in  words  for  all  im- 
pressions derived  from  the  senses,  but  complained  of  a  poverty 
of  words  wanted  for  writings  on  law,  theology,  and  philosophy. 
To  supply  this  want  he  recommended  a  development  of  the  in- 
dependent  resources  of  his  native  language,  but  at  the  same  time 
condemned  the*extreme  purists  who  would  use  no  words  derived 
from  foreign  languages. 

Among  those  who  endeavoured  to  reduce  to  practice  such  rules 
as  were  suggested  by  Leibnitz,  one  of  bis  contemporaries,  Chbis- 
TIAW  Thomasitjs,  (1656-1728),  must*  be  remembered.  His  con- 
tributions to  the  culture  of  a  national  literature  deserve  notice ; 
1)ut  his  reputation  does  not  rest  upon  them.  Literature  and  life 
had  been  widely  sepai'ated  in  the  seventeenth  century.  Versifiers 
had  studied  metaphors  and  professors  had  written  abstract  trea- 
tises in  Latin,  while  the  miseries  that  attended  and  followed  the 
war  had  prevailed  throughout  the  land.  Among  the  few  writers 
of  books  who  were  also  patriots,  none  was  greater  than  THOKASiuSy 
a  lawyer  and  an  energetic,  practical  man,  an  enemy  of  the  pedants 
and  the  bigots  who  were  numerous  in  his  day.    He  detended  the 


XII.]  PIETISM.  161 

Pietists — especially  HEBHAim  Fbancke— not  for  the  sake  of  their 
tenets,  but  becausd  they  claimed,  as  he  believed,  a  reasonable 
freedom  of  thouj^ht  It  must,  however,  be  added  that  when  they 
had  gained  it  for  themselves,  they  refused  to  allo^  others  to  enjoy 
it  In  his  lecture  on  '  The  Right  Way  of  Imitating  the  French ' 
(1687)  Thomasius  contended  for  the  substitution  of  German  for 
Latin  in  lectures  given  in  the  universities.  The  persecution  to 
which  he  was  subjected,  on  account  of  his  defence  of  the  Pietists, 
had  a  good  result  in  the  foundation  of  a  new  university  at  Halle, 

• 

where  he  was  appointed  professor  (1694)  and  director  (1710). 
His  German  writings  include  a  'History  of  Wisdom  and  Folly  * 
(1693)  and  some  *  Short  Theorems '  on  the  witch-trials  of  his 
times  (1704).  In  the  latter  book  he  successfully  denounced  cruel 
persecutions  that  had  too  long  been  encouraged  by  the  arguments 
of  theologians  and  junsts.  Trials  for  the  supposed  crime  of  sor- 
cery had  been  instituted  in  Germany  in  the  thirteenth  centniy, 
but  were  suspended  for  some  time  when  one  of  the  chief  inquisitors 
had  been  assassinated.  Pope  Innocent  VIIL  revived  the  crusade 
against  magicians  and  sorcerers  by  a  bull  dated  1484,  and  soon 
afterwards  persecutions  were  again  instituted,  and  were  main- 
tained, with  more  or  less  rigour,  for  about  two  centuries.  The 
victims  were  mostly  poor  women,  from  whom  absurd  confessions 
were  sometimes  extorted,  which  served  to  confirm  the  delusion. 
The  miseries  that  had  attended  and  followed  the  Thirty  Years* 
War  had  spread  gloom  and  malevolent  suspicion  among  the  people, 
who,  like  barbarians,  were  often  disposed  to  ascribe  their  mis- 
fortunes to  persons  rather  than  to  circumstances.  Sfes,  a  bene- 
volent Jesuit,  already  named  as  a  poet,  denounced  the  so-called 
triab  of  witches,  and — rather  later — Bexilsr,  a  theologian 
of  Amsterdam,  wrote,  for  the  same  purpose,  his  'Enchanted 
^W^orld ; '  but  Thomasius  h^d  greater  success  than  these  predeces- 
sors, and  after  the  publication  of  his  book  people  became  more 
and  more  ashamed  of  a  doctrine  that  had  been  advocated  by  King 
James  the  First  of  England,  and  by  many  learned  men  in 
Germany. 

The  controversial  and  systematic  theology  of  the  period  was 
written  in  Latin.  We  have,  therefore,  to  notice  here  only  the 
Pietists,  and  one  of  the  later  Mystics  who  departed  very  widely 
from  the  principles  of  such  men  as  Tauler.  Of  Philipp  Jakob 
Spcnss  (1635-1705),  author  of  Ha  Desidena  and   other  de- 

X 


162  OUTLINES  OF  GEilMAN  UTERATUEE.  [Ch. 

« 

Totional  writings  in  prose  and  verse,  some  account  lias  already 
been  given.  His  follower,  Attgust  TLERUAisrs  Fraitcxs  (1663- 
1727),  the  friend  of  Christian  Thomasius  and  one  of  the  most 
popular  preachers  of  his  times,  ia  now  remembered  chiefly  on 
acount  of  his  practical  and  well-directed  benevolence.  He  founded 
in  1698  the  Orphan  Home  at  Glaucha,  near  Halle,  which  has 
greatjy  increased,  and  now  fohns  a  small  town  in  which  the  chief 
buildings  are  schools.  A  few  years  ago  they  contained  more  than 
three  thousand  boys  and  girls,  wlio  were  receiving  instruction 
from  about  one  hundred  and  thirty  teachers.  Francke  was  driven 
to  Ilalle  by  pei'secution,  and,  a  few  years  afterwards,  his  followers 
drove  the  philosopher  Wolf  from  Ilalle  I  It  is  an  Old  story :  the 
Pietists,  when  successful,  made  their  religion  as  external  and  as 
exclusive  as  the  authority  agaiust  which  they  had  formerly  pro- 
tested. They  insisted  on  forms  of  phraseology,  and  found  an  im- 
portant difference  in  the  words  *  Shibboleth '  and  '  Sibboleth.* 
Egotism  and  intolerance  can  lurk  under  all  forms  of  doctrine,  and 
are  never  so  formidable  as.  when  they  act  with  the  assumed  sanc- 
tion of  religion. 

One  of  the  later  Mjsticfl,  Johann  Georg  Gichtbl  (1638-1710) 
may  be  named,  because  his  writings  show  the  results  of  that  want 
of  clear  practical  teaching  which  we  have  noticed  in  the  works  of 
the  earlier  Mystics.  Gichtel  gave  to  their  doctrines  an  extremely 
ascetic,  practical  character,  and  founded  a  sect  calling  themselves 
'AngelicBrethren; '  who  abstained  from  marriage,  and  believed  that, 
by  the  practice  of  devotion,  they  might  obtain  supernatural  powers. 
Their  founder  was  driven  from  Germany  for  his  heresy,  and  after- 
wards lived  in  Amsterdam,  where  he  edited  the  first  complete 
edition  of  Bohme's  writings.  Gichters  -letters,  which  were  pub- 
lished (without  his  consent)  in  1701  and  later,  contain  some  ex-^ 
traordinary  statements.  It  is  as8erted,*for  instance,  that  Gichtel 
alone,  by  the  exercise  of  faith,  and  without  leaving  his  chamber, 
defeated  the  large  army  sent  against  Amsterdam  by  Louis  XIV. 
in  1672.  History,  as  commonly  believed,  informs  us  that  the 
Dutch  opened  their  sluices  and  so  defeated  the  enemy. 

Two  vrriters  who,  by  birth,  belonged  to  the  seventeenfh,  exerted 
their  influence  mostly  in  the  eighteenth  century.  Leibnitz 
awakened  philosophic  thought,  and  Wolf  found  expressions  for 
it  in  his  native  *  language.  Gottfkisd  Wilhelh  Leibnitz 
(1646-1716)^  one  of  the  greatest  of  scholais  and  thinkers,  wioto 


Xn.]  LEIBNITZ.  ^  163 

Ms  most  important  works  in  French  and  Latin,  tbougb  he. pleaded 
well  for  the  culture  of  his  native  language.  A  union  of  the  power 
of  deep  thought  with  versatile  talents  was  the  chief  characteristic 
of  Leihnitz,  who  was  a  philosopher,  a  mathematician,  and  a 
statesman.  His  life  was  a  contrast  to  that  of  a  lonelj  student ;  he 
travelled  often,  maintained  an  extensive  correspondence,  and  was 
engaged  in  important  diplomatic  services,  especially  with  a  view 
to  the  prevention  of  war  between  Germany  and  France.  During 
a  visit  to  London  he  became  acquainted  with  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
with  whom  he  was  afterwards  involved  in  a  long  controversy 
respecting  the  discovery  of  the  differential  calculus.  It  appears 
clear  that  both  Newton  and  Leibnitz  arrived  independently  and 
by  distinct  processes  at  the  same  result.  After  his  return  to  Ger- 
many he  lived  mostly  in  Hanover,  but  frequently  visited  the  Court 
of  Prussia,  and  founded,  in  1700,  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at 
Berlin.  His  religious  opinions  were  conciliatory,  and  he  corre- 
sponded with  Bossnet,  vnth  a  view  to  mitigate  the  severity  of  con- 
troversy. Leibnit2  was  a  man  of  middle  stature,  active  in  body  and 
mind,  and  remarkably  healthy.  He  was  a  courtier,  and  has  been 
accused  of  avarice  and  vanity;  was  very  careless  of  his  own 
domestic  afiBnirs,  and  was  never  married.  His  philosophy  cannot 
be  (airly  analysed^  if  seen  out  of  its  connection  with  the  systems 
of  other  thinkers ;  but  two  or  three  of  its.  leading  thoughts  may 
be. here  indicated.  Leibnitz,  in  opposition  to  the  doctrine  of 
Spinosa,  regarded  power,  instead  of  substance,  as  the  basis  of  all 
phenomena.  Numerous  forces  (monads),  ever  active  in  their 
combinations  and  oppositions,  but  all  serving  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  one  design,  form  the  substantial,  ideal  world.  The  whole 
universe  is  a  collection  of  forces  always  acting,  and  no  inert  sub- 
stance exists.  In  opposition  to  Locke*s  rejection  of  innate  ideas, 
Leibnitz  asserts  that  the  mind  has  innate  ideas,  but  these,  he  says, 
are,  when  viewed  apart  from  experience,  'virtual'  andnot  'explicit' 
In  other  words,  thoughts  contain  elements  not  derived  from  the 
senses,  but  developed  by  means  of  sensation.  In  his  Tkiodic^e 
— an  essay  on  Optimism — Leibnitz  asserts  that  the  actuaL world 
is  the  best  possible  world ;  that  physical  evil  may  be  viewed  as  a 
stimulus  for  the  development  of  power,  and  that  moral  evil  is  in- 
separable from  the  freedom  of  intellectual  beings.  This  freedom 
is  overruled,  however,  by  a  pre-established  harmony ;  so  that,  in 
the  end,  all  the  powers  that  can  deploy  themselves  are  made  to 

u2 


164  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

'  work  together  for  good.'    In  one  of  Ms  German  essays  Leibnitz 

indicated  a  comprehensive  thought  that  was,  long  afterwards,  more 

distinctly  asserted  bj  Fichte :   that  all  the  ideas  expressed  bj 

such  words  as  *  power/  '  freedom/  *  harmony/  '  beauty/  '  love/  tind 

*  happiness '  may  be  developments  ^firom  one  idea — ^that  of  union, 

or  of  the  subordination  of  many  inferior  powers  to  one  higher  ' 

power.    In  other  parts  of  his  writings  Leibnitz  expresses  a  belief  ^ 

that  all  philosophy  may  ultimately  be  reduced  to  one  system ; 

having  all  its  parts  as  closely  united  as  the  several  branches  of 

mathematics  -,  but  his  own  method — or  rather,  want  of  a  method 

— could  never  lead  to  such  a  result.    The  best  systematic  view  of 

his  speculations  has  been  given  by  Ktjvo  Fischer  in  his  '  History 

of  Modem  Philosophy.'    The  German  writings  of  Leibnitz  were 

edited  by  Guhrauer  in  1838-40.    We  append  a  passage  from  the 

essay  above  referred  to : — 

The  greatness  of  any  power  moat  be  measured  by  the  extent  to  which  it 
displays  itself,  as  an  evolution  of  many  from  one,  and  as  a  subordination  of 
many  to  one.  .  .  .  This  union  in  variety  is  harmony.  A  subordination  of 
parts  one  to  another,  and  of  all  to  the  whole,  produces  order ;  whence  arises 
beaaty,  and  beanty  awakens  love.  Thus  we  find  a  close  connection  beiwten 
all  the  ideas  which  we  represent  by  such  words  as  happiness,  joy,  love,  per- 
feetion,  power,  freedom,  harmony,  and  beanty,  as  they  all  imply  unity  in 
variety.  Now  when  the  facolties  of  the  human  soul  are  developed  in  ac- 
cordance with  this  law,  there  is  a  feeling  of  consistency,  order,  freedom, 
power,  and  completeness,  which  produces  an  abiding  happiness,  distinct 
from  all  sensuous  pleasures,  and  as  it  is  constant,  does  not  deceive  us,  and 
cannot  produce  future  unhappiness,  as  partial  pleasures  may.  It  is  always 
attended  by  an  enlightened  reason,  and  an  impulse  towud  all  goodn^ 
and  virtue.  Sensuous,  transitory,  or  partial  pleasures  may  be  mistaken  for 
happiness ;  but  they  may  be  clearly  distinguished  by  this  mark,  that  while 
they  gratify  the  senses,  they  do  not  satisfy  reason.  An  unwise  indulgence 
in  such  pleasures  introduces  discord  in  our  nature,  and  thus  produces  many 
evils.  Pleasure,  therefore,  must  not  be  regarded  as  an  end,  but  may  be  em- 
ployed as  one  of  the  means  of  happiness.  It  should  be  viewed  as  a  delicious 
cate,  with  a  suspicion  that  it  may  contain  something  poisonous.  In  short, 
pleasures,  like  our  daily  diet,  must  be  regulated  by  reason.  But  rational 
enjoyment  arising  out  of  a  general  harmonious  wellbeing  of  our  nature  has 
in  itself  an  evidence  that  it  is  purely  good,  and  can  produce  no  evil  in  the  ^ 

future.  The  chief  means  of  promoting  such  joy  must  be  the  enlighten- 
ment of  reason,  and  the  ezerdse  of  the  will  in  acting  in  accordance  with 
reason.*.  .  . 

If  external  advantages  and  pleamures  could  produce  the  happiness  I  have 
described,  it  would  certainly  be  found  in  the  possession  of  great  and  rich 
men.  But  Christ  himself  has  said,  it  is  very  difficult  for  rich  men  *  to  enter 
the  Kingdom  of  Heav^,*  or,  in  other  words,  to  attain  true  happiness. 
Having  around  them  an  abundance  of  sensuous  luxuries,  they  are  disposed 
to  seek  satiafacticA  in  joys  which  must  be  txansitory ;  or,  when  they  rise  j 


xn.]  WOLF.  165 

above  physical  pleasareis  they  generally  depend  on  an  ambition  to  gam 
honour  and  applause.  But  sickness  and  age  will  surely  take  away  all 
sensuous  delights^  and  misfortunes  may  ruin  all  the  objects  of  ambitiou. 
Thus  all  external  pleasures  fail,  and  those  who  have  depended  upon  them 
find  that  they  have  been  deceived. 

The  .devotion  of  a  lifetime  would  Iiave  been  demanded  to 
reduce  the  hypotheses  of  Leibnitz  to  a  system,  but  he  never 
undertook  such  a  task.  One  of  his  more  important  works — ^the 
'New  Essays  on  the  Human  Understanding' — was  first  pub- 
lished fifty  years  after  bis  death.  His  doctrines  were  partly  reduced 
to  a  systematic  form  by  his  follower  Christian  Wole  (1679-1746), 
who  threw  aside  such  parts  as  he  could  not  understaud.  Wolf  was 
a  man  of  great  industry,  and  wrote  an  extensive  series  of  works  in 
Latin,  and  several  shorter  and  clearer  expositions  of  his  system  in 
German.  In  all  his  works  he  showed  a  love  of  order  and  clearness^ 
which  had  a  Tery  important  educational  efieT5t  in  his  times,  while 
his  use  of  his  own  Icmguage  greatly  developed  its  resources.  His 
systematic  writings  in  German  and  Latin  fill  twenty-two  quarto 
volumes.  In  1707,  and  for  fifteen  years  afterwards,  he  lectured 
with  great  success  on  mathematics  and  natural  philosophy  at 
Halle,  until  he  was  accused  of  heresy  by  some  of  his  colleagues 
who  were  Pietists.  The  King,  Priedrich  Wilhelm  I.,  willingly 
listened  fb  the  accusation;  for  he  hated  philosophers,  and  had 
military  notions  of  orthodpxy.  It  is  true  he  kept  at  his  court  (me 
professor,  Paul  Gundling — ^the  brother  of  the  writer  whose 
German-Latin  style  has  been  noticed — but  he  was  kept  only  as  a 
court-fool  to  entertain  the  King;  was  introduced,  when  intoxicated, 
to  amuse  the  King's  friends  in  their  evening  smoking-club,  and 
was,  at  last,  buried  in  a  wine-cask.  Wolf  was  driven  as  a 
criminal  from  Prussia  in  1723,  and  did  not  return  imtil  1740, 
when  Friedrich  called  the  Great  mounted  the  throne.  The  phi- 
losopher was  then  re-appointed  professor  at  Halle,  where  he 
enjoyed,  for  some  years,  a  high  reputation  as  a  teacher. 

Method  and  a  clear  arrangement  of  his  thoughts  were  the  most 
prominent  merits  of  Wolfs  writings ;  but  his  method  was  dog- 
matic, and  his  system  was  an  aggregate,  not  an  organism.  He  dis- 
tinctly labelled  his  categories,  but  arranged  them  without  regard 
to  their  logical  union,  and  did  not  investigate  their  origin.  He 
wrote  down  such  predicates  as  '  finite '  and  '  infinite,* '  simple '  and 
^eomplez,'  as  if  their  meaning  were  self-eTident  and  well  understood 


166  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEllATURE.  [Cii. 

hy  everybody.  Wolf  knew  notbingof  sucli  doubts  as  were  afterwards 
iuti'oduced  into  metapbysicfi  by  Hume  and  Kant,  and  bis  writings, 
consequently,  seryed  to  encourage  a  self-complacent  dogmatism 
wbicb,  in  a  later  time,  disguised  itself  under  tbe  name  of  'enligbten- 
ment.'  In  other  respects  his  teaching  had  very  good  results,  and 
tbe  example  of  his  clear  style  aiid  methodical  arrangement  was 
followed  by  the  popular  philosophers  of  tbe  eighteenth  century. 

Without  these  notices  of  the  writings  of  Leibnitz  and  Wolf  a 
transition  from  the  literature  of  the  seventeenth  to  that  of  tbe 
eighteenth  century  would  seem  abrupt.  In  the  period  now  briefly 
surveyed  (1G25-1725)  but  little  improvement  has  been  noticed, 
save  in  tbe  art  of  writing  verse;  in  the  next  period — 1725-70 — 
are  found  prose-writings  that,  with  regard  to  style,  may  challenge 
a  comparison  with  the  literature  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

We  have  arrived  at  the  close  of  a  long  time  of  intellectual  dul- 
ness,  extending  from  the  later  Middle  Ages  to  the  end  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  Tbe  songs  and  ballads,  the  satires,  tbe 
})opular  sermons,  and  the  people^s  jest-books  of  those  times  have 
much  historical  interest ;  but,  if  we  had  noticed  books-  merely  for 
their  literary  merits,  almost  four  centuries  might  have  been  de- 
scribed as  comparatively  barren.  Ijstin  writers  in  theology  and 
philology,  too  numerous  to  be  mentioned,  flourished  during  these 
ages,  and  many  works  of  considerable  learning  were  produced ; 
but  such  labours  had  no  influence  on  tbe  progress  of  a  national, 
and  especially  a  poetical  literature,  of  the  German  people.  While 
Hans  Sachs,  the  writer  of  homely  fables  in  verse,  &irly  represented 
the  character  of  German  poetry  in  tbe  sixteenth  century,  the 
Elizabethan  era  of  poetical  genius  was  in  its  lustre  in  England. 
Shakspeare  wrote  his  dramas  only  a  few  years  after  tbe  death  of 
Sachs.  No  fact  can  more  strikingly  show  how  fiEur  Germany 
remained  behind  England  in  the  cultivation  of  poetry.  If  we  turn 
our  attention  to  prose-writers,  the  contrast  is  equally  remarkable. 
Not  long  after  Fischart  wrote  his  satires,  Richard  Hooker 
wrote  his  'Ecclesiastical  Polity'  and  Lord  Bacon  produced 
bis  philosophical  essays.  In  the  seventeenth  century  we  still 
find,  a  contrast  between  the  vigour  of  English  and  tbe  feeble- 
ness of  German  literature.  Martin  Opitz,  and  the  imitators  who 
regarded  him  as  the  '  Horace  of  his  times/  represented  German 
poetry  during  the  age  which  produced  such  writers  as  Milton, 
Pryden,  Barrow,  and  Tillotson. 


XniJ  CHAEA.CTERISTICJS  OF  THE  TIME,  167 


CHAPTER  XnL 

SIXTH  PERIOD.    1726-70. 

CaABACrBBimCS    of    THB    TIUB — ^LTTBKABT    XTKIOirS — THB    SWISS- 

UnraO    CONTBOTBRST —  GOTTSCHED BODKBB — BRBITINQER  —  THB 

FABUB-'WBITBBS — HAT.T.KR — HAOEDOBK — THB  ftlXON  SCHOOL — OLBUC 
AlCD  HIS  FBIBXDS — ^HnDr-WBTrBBS — ^PBOSB  FICTION. 

■ 

The  times  wlien  WiNomLMANN,  Elopstook,  liESsrsot^  and  Wie- 
LAND  wrote  seem  far  removed  from  the  days  of  Opitz.  So  great 
was  the  progress  that  had  been  made  during  the  lifetime  of  Wolf 
(1679-1764),  that  centuries  seemed  to  have  passed  away  when 
Lessing  appeared  as  the  reformer  of  the  literature  of  the  German 
people.  The  title  of  reformer  is^  indeed,  hardly  high  enough  for 
Lessing.  He  gave  to  literature  far  more  than  improvements  in 
form ;  he  breathed  into  it  a  new  spirit  and  inspired  it  with  a  new 
will.  It  remains  no  longer  imitative,  but  asserts  its  own  cha- 
racter. No  longer  does  it  make  a  pile  of  learning  for  the  sake  of 
leamiDg,  but  subordinates  aH  studies  to  one — that  of  life  and 
progress.  While  maintaining  its  individuality,  it  becomes  com- 
prehensive and  sympathetic  in  its  recognition  of  the  world^s 
literature.  These  ideas  were  expanded  by  later  writers,  but  they 
belong  especially  to  Gotthold  Ephraim  Lessing.  He  was  the 
foremost  man  of  Us  time,  but  he  was  also  the  child  of  the  age. 
His  work  had  been  prepared  for  him,  and  to  explain  his  success 
some  circumstances  of  the  times  favourable  to  literary  culture 
must  be  named.  Among  them  we  can  hardly  include  any  patron- 
age of  literature  by  the  State.  Several  of  the  best  authors  who 
wrote  during  the  forty-five  years  1726-70  belonged  to  Prussia, 
and  the  great  historical  fact  of  the  time  was  the  marvellous  growth 
of  the  political  power  of  that  State  imder  its  two  great  rulers 
Friedrich  Wilhelm  I.  and  his  son ;  but  no  direct  connection  can  be 
traced  between  political  and  literary  progress.    The  latter  was 


168  OUTLINES  OF  OERAIAN  LITEBATURE.  [Cfl. 

ignored  by  the  Court  of  Berlin.  Friedrich  Wilhelm  I.,  ^hose 
economy  and  prevision  founded  his  country's  power,  scorned  both 
philosophy  and  poetry,  and  classified  literary  men  and  professors 
with  'the  foreign  singers,  dancers,  and  fiddlers,'  for  whom  he 
entertained  a  hearty  contempt.  As  before  stated,  he  kept  at  his 
court  one  professor  and  historiographer,  whom  he  treated  as  a 
buffoon.  Friedrich  II.,  a  great  king,  and  a  man  of  power  in  both 
intellect  and  will,  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  write  his  own 
language.  In  an  '  Essay  on  German  literature/  which  he  wrote 
in  French  (1780),  he  mentioned  neither  Elopstock  nor  Lessing, 
and  when  an  edition  of  the  Nibehmgenlied  was  presented  to  him, 
he  declared  it  was  '  not  worth  a  shot,'  and  if  found  in  his  library, 
would  have  been  swept  out  by  his  orders.  Yet  the  King  oould 
bestow  praise  liberally,  at  Umes,  for  he  styled  an  insignificant 
versifier — Canitz — 'The  Pope  of  Germany.'  In  literature  the 
King  was  as  truly  French  as  his  friend  Voltaire.  The  latter, 
writing  at  the  Court  of  Berlin  (1750),  says : — '  I  am  here  still  in 
France.  We  all  talk  in  our  own  language,  and  men  educated  at 
Konig^erg  know  many  of  my  poems  by  heart.  German  is  left 
for  soldiers  and  horses,  and  we  have  no  need  of  it  except  when 
we  are  travelling.'  The  King's  own  tastes  were  represented  in 
these  words.  Yet  he  Indirectly  aided  the  growth  of  a  national 
literature  \  for  he  infused  his  own  ener|py  into  the  character  of  his 
people,  and  gave  them  something  to  be  proud  o£  Think  as  they 
might  of  his  opinions,  his  tastes,  and  some  parts  of  his  policy,  they 
were  compelled  to  honour  the  nlan  who  regarded  himself  as 
'the  Servant  of  the  State,'  and  '  who  thought,  lived,  and  died  like . 
a  king.' 

The  revival  of  national  literature  in  the  eighteenth  century  was 
a  continuation  of  the  work  begun  and  carried  on. by  Opitz,  Tho- 
masius,  Schupp,  Leibnitz,  and  Wolfi  Political  and  social  circum- 
ifttances  were  more  favourable  to  literary  culture  than  they  had 
been.  Seventy-five  years  had  passed  since  the  close  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  and  though  the  conditions  of  the  Peace  of  West- 
phalia were  imsatisfiactory,  with  regard  to  their  ultimate  tendencies, 
the  minds  of  men  now  enjoyed  a  comparative  repose.  The  rancour 
of  religious  strife  had  considerably  abated;  for  the  three  con- 
fessions were  placed  on  an  equal  footing  with  regard  to  their  rela- 
tions with  the  State.  Men,  left  without  any  great  interest  in 
general  politics,  and  excluded  from  political  power  in  the  several 


Xni.]  LITEBARY  UNIONS.  1^9 

minor  States,  found  in  literary  culture  tlie  occupation  and  Ibe  free- 
dom which  they  could  not  elsewhere  enjoy.  Literary  unions,  with 
their  journalism,  correspondence,  and  coatroversies,  supplied  means 
of  intercourse  between  students  living  in  Saxony  and  Prussia; 
while  Switzerland  was  reunited  with  Germany  by  means  of 
literature. 

The  literary  unionp  of  the  preceding  century  had  not  been  al- 
together useless,  for  they  had  weeded  French  words  out  of 
German  Terse ;  but  poetry  was  still  a  copy  made  from  a  copy ;  for 
its  French  models  were  imitations  of  the  antique.  Oue  of  the 
literaiy  societies  of  the  seventeenth  century  still  survived  at 
Leipzig,  and  Gotischsd,  in  1727,  gave  it  a  new  lease  of  existence, 
and  partly  changed  its  character  for  the  better.  About  six  years 
earlier  Bodhsb,  a  professor  of  history  at  Ziirich,  and  his  friend 
Brsitin&es,  a  pastor  there,  had  started  a  literary  journal,  chiefly 
with  a  view  to  an  improved  culture  of  poetry.  This  formed  the 
nucleus  of  the  Swiss  School.  A  literary  union  existing  at  Ilalle, 
in  1784-87,  had  only  two  active  members — Sahuel  Lanor  and 
Jazob  PrBA — and  when  they  left  Halle  'the  Society  for  the 
Culture  of  Poetry  and  Rhetoric'  seems  to  have  suddenly  dis- 
appeared. A  more  important  association,  however,  was  formed  at 
Leipzig  in  1744  by  several  young  men,  afterwards  known  as  the 
Saxon  School.  They  at  first  obeyed  the  rules  stated  by  Gott- 
sched,  but  soon  went  over  to  the  side  of  Bodmer.  The  latter 
had  hardly  any  consistent  theory  of  poetry;  but  he  pleaded  for  a 
free  exercise  of  the  imagination,  in  opposition  to  Gottsched's 
tyrannical  common  sense,  and  preferred  English  to  French  poets. 

These  two  schools  of  Leipzig  and  Ziirich  were  the  highest 
authorities  in  poetry  and  criticism ;  but  other  unions  of  literary 
men  were  soon  formed — especially  at  Berlin  and  Halberstadt 
Gleim,  afterwards  well  known  as  the  Maecenas  of  his  times, 
formed,  while  he  was  a  student  at  Halle,  a  coterie  consisting  at 
first  of  the  trio  Gleih,  Uz,  and  Goxz ;  and,  when  two  other 
young  poets — ^Klsist  and  Hauler — had  entered  this  miniature 
union,  it  became  known  as  '  the  Prussian  School.'  Kamler  went 
to  reside  in  Berlin,  where,  with,  the  aid  of  several  friends,  he 
founded  a  literary  association,  which  included  Lessing,  Mend  els- ' 
sohn,  and  Nicolai,  the  publisher  of  the  *  Literary  Letters,'  to  which 
Lessing  contributed. 
.    Meanwhile  Glboc  maintained  a  very  eztensive  coxrespondence 


170  OUTLINES  OF  GEB.MAN  LITORATUBE.  [Ch. 

with  his  literary  friends  in  all  the  schools,  and,  morecTer,  had  in 
his  own  houses  at  Halberstadt  a  select  college  of  young  versifiers 
— Jacobi,  Michaelis,  Schmidt,  and  Heinse — all  destined,  as 
Father  Gleim  fondly  believed,  to  become  great  poets  in  tiie  course 
of  time. 

These  outlines  of  the  history  of  several  literary  unions  may 
serve  to  expltdn  their  relations  with  each  other  and  their  compa- 
rative importance.  Their  chief  representatives  may  now  be 
noticed. 

JoHAVN  Chbistoph  Gottscsed,  bom  in  1700,  near  Konigsberg, 
came  to  Leipzig  in  1724,  and  there  founded  '  the  German  Society ' 
for  the  culture  of  a  national  literature.  He  began  his  work  well, 
by  criticism  directed  chiefly  against  the  affectation  and  bombast  of 
the  Second  Silesian  School.  Havingsuccessfully  ended  this  negative 
process,  Gottsched  proceeded  to  lay  down  strict  laws  for  the  culti- 
vation of  poetry.  He  maintained  the  three  propositions :  that  poetry 
must  be  founded  on  an  imitation  of  nature ;  that  the  understanding 
must  prevail  over  the  imagination ;  and  that  the  best  models  must 
be  found»  in  French  literature.  At  this  time  several  translations 
from  English  poetry  had  appeared,  and  Milton  had  many  admirers 
in  Germany.  Among  his  admirers  no  one  was  so  enthusiastic 
as  JoHANN  Jaeob  Bodmeb,  bom  near  Zurich  in  1698,  who  trans- 
lated the  '  Paradise  Lost'  In  an  essay  '  On  the  Marvellous  in 
Poetry'  (1740)  he  defended  Milton  from  certain  charges  brought 
against  him  by  Gottsched,  and  so  began  a  controversy  that  served 
to  give  animation  to  criticism,  and  had  other  good  results.  It  was 
in  the  midst  of  this  controversy  that  the  new  literature  of  the 
eighteenth  century  arose.  For  a  time  the  critic  of  Leipzig  had 
the  advantage  on  his  side,  especially  with  regard. to  dramatic 
literature.  Here  he  found  two  powerful  allies  to  assist  endeavours 
to  preserve  the  stage  from  all  innovations  on  French  models.  The 
iii-st  of  his  allies  was  a  popular  actress,  named  Caroline  Neuber, 
who  refused  to  appear  in  any  plays  in  which  'Jack  Puddings,'  or 
other  low  characters  condemned  by  Gottsched,  were  introduced. 
The  other  ally  was  his  wife,  Lvisb  Victobia  Gottsched,  who 
had  talents  superior  to  any  possessed  by  the  dictator  himself. 
She  translated  Pope's  'Eape  of  the  Lock,'  as  well  as  several 
French  dramas.;  she  was  the  author,  too,  of  comedies  and  poems 
in  her  native  tongue.  Yet  she  was  one  of  the  best  of  household 
managers,  and  while  she  regulated  her  husband's  domestic  afifaiiB 


Xm.]  THE  5WISS-LEIPZIG  CONTEOVERSY.  171 

assisted  bim  not  a  little  in  his  literary  labour.  With  these 
and  inferior  allies,  Gottsched  maintained  well,  for  some  time,  bis 
contest  with  the  Swiss  literary  heretics;  but  his  dominion  was 
OTerthrown  at  last  by  himself  when,  in  the  pride  of  his  power,  he 
went  80  far  as  to  condemn  Klopstock,  then  rising  into  popularity. 
The  Leipzig  critic  declared  that  the  Memos  was  a  very  irregular 
and  worthless  poem,  and  could  not  for  a  moment  be  compared  with 
'  Hermann,*  a  new  epic  by  Christoph  Otto  Schokaich  ;  but  the 
public,  as  well  as  many  critics,  condemned  the  latter  as  intolerably 
dull  and  unreadable.  In  dramatic  literature  the  critic  found  a 
formidable  opponent  in  Christian  Fblix  Weisk  (1726-1804), 
who  endeavoured  to  make  innovations  on  the  stage,  especially 
by  iutroducing  light  comic  operas  and  melodramas,  to  supersede 
such  heavy  tragedies  as  Gottsched*s  own  *  Dying  Cato.*  The  dic- 
tator was  so  seriously  offended  by  the  performance  of  one  of 
Weise's  operas — *  The  Devil  is  loose ' — that  he  regarded  it  as  a 
personal  insult  offered  to  himself.  Nor  was  this  the  last  of  hia 
sad  reverses  of  fortune.  Hie  wife — once  his  faithful  literary 
assistant — went  over  to  the  side  of  the  innovators,  and  the  popular 
actress,  Caroline  Neuber,  having  also  joined  the  new  party,  was 
an  accomplice  in  the  shameful  act  of  representing  a  caricature  of 
the  dictator  himself  on  the  Leipzig  stage  f  When  Gottsched  was 
thus  prostrated,  everyone,  of  course,  was  ready  to  strike  him.  One 
Host,  the  author  of  some  licentious  poems,  wrote  an  abusive 
letter — 'From  the  Devil  to  Gottsched  '—and  distributed  copies  so 
that,  wherever  the  critic  went,  he  found  the  odious  epistle. 
'  ^len  from  his  high  estate,'  deprived  of  all  his  literacy  authority, 
derided  by  the  actress  who  had  once  been  his  loyal  subject,  and — 
worse  than  all — censured  by  his  wife,  as  if  he  had  lived  beyond 
his  time,  the  great  criticof  Leipzig  finally  retired  into  deep  shades. 
He  had  done  good  service  in  his  day,  if  it  was  nothing  more  than 
putting  down  Lohenstein.  This  one  fact  ought  to  save  Gottsched's 
name  from  contempt.  His  *  Critical  Theory  of  Poetry  *  (1730) 
says  nothing  true  of  poetry  itself,  but  contains  some  good  remarks 
on  diction  and  versification.  He  was  a  reformer  of  the  eztemals 
of  literature,  and  was  a  respectable  writer  when  contrasted  with 
the  leading  men  of  the  Second  Silesian  School. 

BoDUEB  and  his  friends  were — like  their  enemy,  Gottsched — 
more  successful  on  the  negative  than  on  the  poBitive  side,  when 
they  wrote  on  their  own  theory  of  poetry.    They  declared,  ^^7$ 


172  OUTLINES  OP  GEBMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ca, 

that  French  models  were  not  final,  and  that  a  contempt  of  Milton 
was  no  proof  of  a  critic's  good  judgment ;  but  when  thej  went  on 
further,  to  assert  their  own  theory  of  poetry,  they  were  but  a 
little  less  narrow  than  Gottsched.  They  agreed  that  poetry  must 
be  an  imitation  of  nature — must  be,  in  fact,  'a  kind  of  painting  in 
words' — and  that  its  purport  must  be  usefuL  Still  they  con- 
tended that  the  wonderful,  and  even  the  impossible,  must  be 
admitted  as  elements  of  poetry.  These  two  latter  conditions 
might  seem  to  be  irreooncileable ;  but  they  were  found  united  in 
^sop's  Fables,  which ^ were,  indeed,  'marvellous'  in  their  in- 
cidents, but '  useful '  in  their  moral  purport.  Hence  the  .^Esopian 
fable  must  be  estimated  as  holding  a  very  high  place  in  |>oetical 
literature.  In  obedience  to  this  odd  dictum  of  the  Swiss  critics, 
several  men  of  respectable  talents — Gellert,  Lichtwer,  and  Pfeffel 
— wrote  many  fistbles  in  verse,  and  sincerely  endeavoured  to  be 
instructive. 

Chbistian  Fubchtbgott  Gsllbbt  (1716-69),  a  veiy  amiable 
man,  had  great  success  as  a  writer  of  fkbles,  hymns,  and  a  few 
other  poems.  His  language  was  clear  and  correct,  though  popu- 
lar, and  his  didactic  purport  was  always  good ;  but  he  had  no  high 
imaginative  powers.  The  people  accepted  his  writings  with  an 
enthusiastic  approval,  and  their  feeHngs  were  shared  oy  the  higher 
classes.  Gellert,  who  was  modest  and  retiring,  found  himself 
celebrated,  while  he  was  trying  mostly  to  be  useful.  His  fame 
must  have  been'  great,  for  it  reached  the  Court  of  Berlin.  Fried- 
rich  II.  sought  an  interview  with  the  writer  of  popular  fables,  and 
was  well  pljeased  with  his  conversation.  ^  He  is  one  of  the  n^ost 
rational  of  German  professors,'  said  the  King,  But  the  fabulist's 
admirers  were  found  among  men  of  all  classes.  A  story  is  told  of 
a  peasant  who  brought  to  the  poet's  house  a  cart-load  of  fire- 
wood, as  a  thanksgiving  for  pleasure  received  in  reading  Gellert's 
fables.  Good  morals  and  piety  were  more  noticeable  than  genius 
in  Gellert;  but  he  had  humour,  and  his  piety  was  not  narrow.  In 
one  of  his  fables  a  man  afflicted  with  rheumatism  endeavours  to 
cure  it  by  an  odd  charm,  recommended  by  a  superstitious  woman : 
he  must  wash  his  hands  in  morning  dew  found  on  the  grave  of 
some  good  and  holy  man.  Guided  by  fine  epitaphs,  the  patient 
first  tries  dew  from  the  grave  of  one. '  who  lived  a  perfect  model 
of  faith  and  good  works,'  and  who  died  *  lamented  by  Church  and 
State.*    No  cars  follows,  and  the  patient  next  tries  an  obscure 


XHL]  THE  FABLE-WBITEES.  173 

grave  without  a  name.  'When  hie  rheumatic  pains  have  abated, 
he  makes  some  enquiry  respecting  the  tenant  of  the  grave.  *  Sir/ 
replies  the  sexton,  '  they  would  hardly  give  him  Christian  burial. 
He  was  a  heretic — a  writer  of  poems  and  comedies — a  good-for- 
nothing.'  It  is  obvious  that  the  satire  here  intended  is  ambiguous ; 
for  either  the  piety  of  the  saint  or  the  virtue  of  the  charm  might 
be  unreal. 

Another  vmter  of  £able8,  Magntts  Gottpbibd  Lichtwsb  (1719- 
83),  followed  the  example  of  Qellert  in  making  imagination  sub- 
servient to  didactic  utility,  and  hardly  more  can  be  said  in  favour 
of  'the  &bles  and  poetical  narratives'  vmtten  by  Qottfbisd 
EoNBAD  Ffeffel  (1736-1809),  who  was  afflicted  with  a  total  loss 
of  eyesight  during  the  greater  part  of  his  long  life.  This  was  not 
allowed  to  interrupt  his  literary  and  other  labours.  He  was  a 
successful  schoolmaster,  and  discharged  faithfully  the  duties  of 
several  public  offices.  His  satirical  and  didactic  verses  are  very 
mild,  excepting  when  he  refers  to  the  outbreak  of  the  French 
Revolution,  of  which  he  always  speaks  bitterly.  This  will  be 
excused  when  it  is  added  that  the  Revolution  compelled  the 
blind  man  to  shut  up  his  school  at  Colmar  in  Klsass.  The  ex- 
ample of  his  industrious  life  is  more  valuable  than  all  the  morals 
appended  to  his  fables. 

The  writers  of  fables  had  more  success  than  Bodmer  either 
enjoyed  or  deserved,  when  he  turned  away  from  critidam  and 
SBsthetic  controversy  to  write  epics.  It  is  endugh  to  mention 
one, '  The  Noachide/  which  tells  the  story  of  Noah  and  the  Deluge. 
Bodmer's  attempted  sublimity  is  sometimes  ridiculous,  as  when 
he  ascribes  the  flood  to  the  collision  of  a  watery  comet  with  the 
earth.  His  best  services  to  literature  consisted  in  his  opposition 
to  Gottsched's  bigotry,  and  in  his  attempts  to  revive  the  study  oi 
okl  German  literature.  He  edited  a  part  of  the  Nihelungerdied 
(1757)  and  a  collection  of  MinneUeder  (1768).  These  services 
attracted  little  attention  until  some  years  after  his  death,  which 
took  place  in  1783.  His  friend  Johanit  Jakob  Bb^itikoeb 
(1701-76)  published,  in  1740,  '  A  Critical  Study  of  the  Poetic 
Art,*  vmtten  correctly,  but  too  closely  limited  in  its  definition  of 
poetry.  The  author  was  a  respectable,  well-educated  man,  less 
controversial  than  Bodmer  and  Gottsched,  and  caring  more  for 
truth  than  for  conquest.  Some  of  his  remarks — especially  those 
given  near  the  close  of  his  book — go  beyond  his  own  theory.    He 


174  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

expresses  doubtA  whether  a  mere  descriptiye  piece  in  verse  ought 
to  be  called  a  poem,  and  suggests  that  the  true  object  of  poetry 
—narrative,  lyrical,  or  dramatic-should  he  to  represent  human 
life  in  all  its  diversities  of  characters  and  passions. 

The  Swiss- Leipzig  controversy  served  to  awaken  an  interest  in 
poetical  literature,  and  called  forth  the  high  critical  powers  of 
Lessing.  Both  Klopstock  and  VVieland  were  partly  indehted  to 
Bodnier,  who  found  delight  in  encouraging  the  development. of 
talents  greater  than  his  own.  Ilence  it  is  easy  to  trace  a  connec- 
tion hetween  a  controversy  of  which  the  details  are  now  mostly 
forgotten  and  the  rise  of  a  new  literature,  of  which  Lessing 
was  the  founder.  This  fact  alone  gives  importance  to  the  names 
of  Gottsched  and  Bodmer. 

Two  verse- writers,  who  had  hardly  any  interest  in  the  contro- 
versy above  noticed,  wrote  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  period,  and  con- 
tributed to  the  improvement  of  style  that  followed.  AiiBRECHT  von 
Haller  (1708-77),  an  accomplished  scholar,  whose  studies  were 
mostly  devoted  to  anatomy  and  physiology,  wrote  several  odes,  and 
other  lyrical  poems,  characterised  by  dignity  aad  thoughtfulness  j 
several  didactic  poems  and  satires, "and  a  descriptive  poem  on  '  The 
Alps '  (1732),  which  is  one  of  the  best  of  its  class.  That  Haller 
did  not  admit  the  more  advanced  doctrine  of  Breitinger  is  shown 
in  a  didactic  romance — '  Fabius  and  Oato  *  (1744) — which  is,  in 
fact,  a  disquisition  on  the  respective  merit  of  several  forms  of 
government.  In  one  of  his  odes — '  An  Address  to  Eternity ' — he 
shows  great  vigour  and  dignity  of  language ;  but  the  subject  is 
abstract,  and  the  sublimity  of  the  thoughts  is  not  of  the  highest 
order,  if  we  except  one  line,  noticed  by  Hegel  as  better  than  all 
the  rest    It  is  the  last  line  of  the  following  passage  :— 

Eternity ! — o'er  numbers  vast, 

0*er  millions  upon  millions  cast  • 

And  multiplied  a  thousandth  time ; 

O'er  worlds  on  worlds  I  still  must  climb,    * 

In  vain,  to  reach  the  boundless  thought ; 

For  still  I  am  no  nearer  brought ; 
The  highest  {towers  of  numbers  make  no  part 

Of  thine  infinitude :  at  last, 
I  sweep  them  all  away — and  there  Thou  art 

A  lighter  and  more  graceful  tone  of  lyrical  poetry  was  introduced 
by  Feiedbich  von  Hagedorn  (1708-54),  a  native  of  Hamburg, 
who  was  for  some  time  secretary  to  the  Banish  embaasy  in  Lon- 


Xm.]  THE  SAXON  SCHOOL.  175 

don.  The  topics  of  liis  songs  are  wine,  fnendship,  and  prac- 
tical wisdom  as  understood  by  Horace.  In  his  fables  and  his 
narratiye  poems  Hagedom  partly  followed  Lafontaine  and  other 
French  writers.  But  English  authors  were  now  taking  the 
place  of  French,  as  models  for  imitative  writers.  Abxou)  Ebebt 
(1723-95),  who  translated  Young's  <  Night  Thoughts/  some  of 
Bichardson's  novels,  and  Macpherson's  *  Ossian,'  helped  to  spread 
a  literary  epidemic  styled  'Anglomania.'  It  is  amusing  to  read 
that  the  *  Night  Thoughts '  of  Young  cherished,  in  Germany,  a 
disposition  to  melancholy  and  sentimental  verse-writing.  Some 
good  influence  must  be  ascribed  to  translations  from  Milton, 
Pope,  and  Thomson.  Pope's  best  work,  *  The  Rape  of  the  Lock,' 
suggested  some  mock-heroic  epics  written  by  Wilhelh  ZachabiS. 
(1726-77)^ and  Thomson's  'Seasons'  encouraged  several  writers 
of  descriptive  poems.  One  of  the  beet  of  these  was  Ewald  Chris- 
TIAK  voir  Eleist  (1716-69),  a  major  in  the  Prussian  army,  who 
fell  in  the  campaign  of  1768-69.  His  poem  on  '  Spring,'  which 
was  once  remarkably  popular,  has  partly  an  epic  character,  and  is 
made  interesting  by  the  expression  of  true  feelings  arising  from 
the  writer's  experience  of  the  miseries  of  war. 

With  the  exception  of  Haller,  Hagedom,  and  Eleist,  it  will, 
perhaps,  be  sufficient  to  notice  most  of  the  minor  poets  of  the 
period  in  groups,  ratl^r  than  individually ;  for  though  not  destitute 
of  merit  with  regard  to  their  diction,  they  had  little  distinctive 
genius.  The  schools,  or  coteries,  to  which  they  belonged  were 
not  imaginary — not  like  '  the  Lake  School,'  invented  by  reviewers 
who  could  not  see  the  difference  between  Wordsworth  and 
Southey.  Members  of  Qerman  literary  societies  in  the  eighteenth 
century  were  really  united,  though  not  always  formally.  Versi- 
fiers of  the  Saxon  School,  for  example,  wex;p  mostly  associated  not 
only  as  members  of  the  literary  union  founded  by  Easl  Gabtnes 
(1712-91),  but  also  as  students  sent  out  from  the  best  classical 
schools  of  Saxony — the  JFuretenschulen,  which  had  been  endowed 
out  of  the  revenues  of  several  suppressed  convents.  A  literary 
journal  entitled  Die  Bremer  Beitrdge  was  the  organ  of  this  Saxon 
School,  which  included  among  its  members — besides  Gartner, 
Gellert,  Zacharia,  and  Ebert,  already  named — such  men  as  Elias 
ScHLEOEL  (1718-49),  a  dramatist,  who  was  opposed  to  artificial 
rules;  his  brother,  Adolf  Sohlegsl,  the  father  of  two  sons 
whose  names  eclipsed  his  own ;  Cbakxb,  a  pastor,  who  wrote 


176  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Cr. 

Tenion  of  tlie  Psalms ;  KAsnrBR,  the  satirist ;  and  the  dramatists 
Croneok  and  Ayreneoff.  One  of  the  more  noticeahle  men  of 
the  Saxon  School  was  Gottlieb  Rabxner  (1714-71),  a  mild 
satirist,  who  was  described  by  Qoethe  as  a  man  of  remarkable 
good  humour.  Rabener  held  an  inferior  office  under  government, 
and,  during  the  siege  of  Dresden  (1760),  his  house  was  burned 
down.  In  a  letter  to  »  Mend  he  describes  his  own  misfortunes 
thus:— 

My  servant  came  nnd  informed  me  that  my  house  wiu  baraed  down, 
that  part  of  my  property  had  been  destroyed  by  bombshells,  and  that  the 
remaining  portion  had  been  plundered  by  soldiers  wb«  had  been  sent  to 
quench  the  fire.  Sad  news !  All  my  property ,  furniture,  clothing,  books, 
manuscripts — all  the  pleasant  letters  firom  yourself  and  other  firiends  which 
I  had  preserved  so  carefully— all  destroyed  I  Of  property  worth,  as  I 
counted  it,  some  three  thousand  dollars,  scarcely  the  vidue  of  ten  doUars 
remaining  I  My  wardrobe  is  thus  suddenly  reduced  to  an  old  stuff  ftt>ck 
and  an  obsolete  peruke — item,  a  bedgown !  All  my  witty  manuscripts, 
which,  as  I  once  expected,  would  make  such  a  teusation  after  my  decease — 
all  turned  to  smoke !  Really,  I  have  now  no  motive  for  dying,  and  shall 
therefore  live  as  long  and  at  well  as  I  can  I 

In  one  instance,  at  least,  Rabener's  satire  is  well  directed ;  for 
it  caricatures  the  tedious  style  of  certain  historical  books.  He 
gives  a  review  of  a  supposed  voluminous  history  of  an  obscure 
hamlet  called  '  Querlequit8ch.'  Its  historian^egins  thus :— '  If  we 
qurry  bsck  our  researches  to  the  beginning  of  the  world,  we  shall 
find  that  it  was  at  first  inhabited  by  only  one  roairied  couple, 
named  respectively  Adam  and  Eve.'  He  then  goes  on,  with  in' 
sufferable  tediousness,  through  the  history  of  the  Chaldeans,  tha 
Assyrians,  the  Egyptians,  the  Jews,  the  Greeks,  and  the  Romans — 
not  forgetting  the  Longobards — and  at  last  expresses  his  thankful- 
ness that  he  has  f(mnd  his  way  back  to  his  subject,  the  obscure 
hamlet  of  Querlequitsch. 

The  self-complacency,  often  characteristic  of  men  of  small 
capacity,  is  found  nowhere  more  complete  than  in  the  versifying 
coterie  over  which  'Father  Gleim'  presided  at  Halberstadt* 
JoHA2<n<r  WiLHELH  Gleim  (1719-1803),  a  good-natui-ed  man 
and  a  bachelor  in  easy  circumstances,  kept  in  his  own  house  a 
nursery*  for  young  poets.  He  first  formed,  as  has  been  said,  a 
little  coterie  at  Halle,  of  which  Johakn  Peteb  Uz  (1720-96) 
and  JoHAim  NnoLAVS  Gotz  (1721-81),  were  members — both 
versifiers  whose  merits  consisted  mostly  in  their  diction.    The 


Xm.]  GLEDf  AKD  HIS  FBDENDS.  177 

best  of  Gleim's  own  poeniB  are  bis  patriotio  aongfs.  He  wrote, 
beside  many  lyrical  pieces,  a  didactic  poem — '  Halladat/  or  ^  The 
Red  Book.'  *  From  my  early  days/  say^  the  author,  '  I  have  had 
the  thought  of  writing  a  book  like  the  Bible.*  (!)  The  result  of 
this  presumptuous  design  was  a  book  full  of  common-places  on 
virtue,  and  containing  hardly  one  original  thought.  Gleim  must 
be  kindly  remembered  as  a  friend  of  literary  men,  though  not  as  a 
poet.  The  society  of  small  versifiers — with,  here*  and  there,  a 
man  of  higher  powers — cheered  the  bachelor*s  house  at  Ilalber- 
stadt,  where,  in  one  large  room,  he  kept  one  hundred  and  eighteen 
portraits  of  relatives  and  literary  friends.  No  great  poet  ever  had, 
in'  this  world,  a  life  as  happy  as  that  of  *  father  Gleim.'  He  never 
found  faults  in  any  poems  written  by  his  friends  or  dependents. 
All  their  works  were  beautiful  I  He  would  patronise  anybody 
who  would  write  a  few  verses,  either  daily  or  weekly.  One  of 
the  least  fortunate  of  the  objects  of  his  patronage  was  Anita  LinsB 
Eassch,  the  daughter  of  a  peasant  She  married  unhappily  when 
she  was  sixteen  years  old,  and  her  second  husband  was  an  intem- 
perate tailor,  whose  thirst  consumed  all  that  the  poetess  could 
earn  by  making  verses.  Having  escaped  from  his  tyranny,  she 
went  to  Berlin  and  thence  to  Halberstadt,  where  father  Gleim 
assisted  her  in  publishing  he%  poems,  which  produced  for  her  a 
little  fortune  of  about  three  hundred  pounds.  This  was  soon 
consumed  by  her  rapacious  relatives,  and  then  the  poor  woman 
made  an  application  for  help  to  the  king.  Friedrich  U.  gave  her 
six  shillings,  which  she  contemptuously  returned  to  him.  His 
successor  patronised  the  poetess,  whose  misfortunes  had  now 
gained  for  her  a  name  at  Berlin.  A  nobleman  granted  her  a  small 
annuity,  and  the  king  gave  her  a  newly-built  house.  She  was  so 
delighted  with  this  change  of  fortune,  that  she  would  not  wait 
imtil  the  walls  were  dry,  and,  soon  after  taking  possession  of  her 
new  abode,  she  fell  ill,  and  died  in  1791.  Her  verses  give  some 
proofs  of  imaginative  energy ;  but  her  genius  was  injured,  rather 
than  improved,  by  the  patronage  she  received. — Father  Gleim  had 
a  better  reward  for  the  services  he  rendered  to  two  or  three  young 
poets,  already  named.  JouAnnsr  Gsobo  Jacobi  (1740-1814), 
wrote,  at  first,  on  very  trivial  themes,  but  made  great  improve- 
ment afterwards,  when  he  imitated  the  style  of  a  junior  ootem- 
porary — Goethe.  The  versification  of  Jacobi's  lyrical  poems  is 
iitelodioii& — Another  of  Gleim's  more  sucoesaful  frienda  was  Karl 


178  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

WiLHELH  Bavlbb  (1725-98),  who  chose  Horace  for  his  model, 
and  wrote  odes  and  other  lyrical  poems  which  were  praised  by 
Goethe.  Hamler  was,  for  some  years,  a  teacher  in  the  Cadets' 
School  at  Berlin,  and  there  wrote  odes  to  celebrate  the  military 
successes  of  the  Idng,  who,  however,  took  no  notice  of  the  poet 
These  odes,  and  some  other  poems  by  Hamler  have  now  but 
little  interest  apart  from  their  versification.  His  imitations  of 
antique  metres  were  carefully  studied,  and  served  as  models  for 
Voss  and  other  translators.  Lessing  sometimes  submitted  his  own 
verses  to  Kamler^s  criticism. 

Several  writers  of  odes  and  hymns,  who  were  mostly  imitators, 
may  be  left  unnamed  here.  A  translation  of  the  Psalms  by 
JoHAi7V  Akdbsas  Cbaxeb  (1723-88),  one  of  the  members  of  the 
Saxon  School,  has  greater  merit  than  his  original  hymns.  Other 
hymn-writers  belonged  mostly  to  two  schools ; — the  didactic,  in 
which  Gellert*s  example  prevailed,  and  the  Pietistic,  including  the 
vmters  of  hymns  for  the  services  of  the  United  Brethren.  A  ten- 
dency to  give  prominence  to  natural  theology  is  found  in  the 
hymns,  a^in  tlie  prose  writings,  of  Christoph  Sturm  (1740-86), 
a  pastor  at  Hamburg,  who  might,  perhaps,  be  classed  with  Klop- 
stock's  imitators.  His  best  work  >n  prose,  entitled  '  Meditations 
on  the  Works  of  God '  (1779),  w|s  translated  into  English,  and 
other  languages,  and  enjoyed  remarkable  popularity.  The  most 
productive  of  all  the  Pietistic  hymn- writers,  was  Nikola  us  Lud- 
WIG,  Graf  voir  Zujzendorf  (1700-60),  who  founded  the 
societies  of  the  United  Brethren,  otherwise  called  Moravians. 
He  gave  to  the  Moravian  brethren,  who,  to  escape  from  persecution 
had  left  their  native  land,  a  settlement  on  his  own  estate,  at  a 
place  afterwards  called  Hermhut.  Here  he  presided  over  his 
*  little  church  in  the  great  church,'  as  he  called  it,  which  became 
a  centre  from  which  missionary  companies  went  forth  into  many 
parts  of  the  world.  Many  of  the  hymns  written  by  Zinzendorf 
are  marked  by  extreme  simplicity ;  others  have  a  quasi-amatoiy 
character,  of  which  the  writer,  in  his  later  years,  expressed  his  own 
.  disapprobation. 

Several  other  names  of  minor  poets  might  be  mentioned  vnth- 
out  serving  to  indicate  any  progress,  either  in  thought  or*  in 
diction.  When  we  turn  from  verse  to  fictions  written  in  prose,. 
Wieland's  romances  are  almost  the  only  productions  deserving 
notice.    Johakit  Timoxhsus  Hebxbs  (1738-1821),  an  imitator 


Xm.]  PROSE  FICTION.  179 

of  Richardson,  wrote  the  first  German  story — '  Sophia's  Journey 
— giving  descriptions  of  the  life  of  the  middle  classes.  In  other 
respects  the  hook  is  insignificant.  Salomon  Gessner  (1730-86)^ 
a  landscape-painter,  endeavoured  to  do  with  his  pen  work  that 
would  have  heen  better  done  with  a  brush.  He  found  delight  in 
writing  descriptions,  of  which  his  stories  mostly  consist.  His 
'  Death  of  Abel '  gained  great  popularity  in  England  as  well  as 
in  Germany.  A  shdrt  passage  from  one  of  his  essays  may  indicate 
his  style : — 

If  Heaven  would  fulfil  the  wish  long  cherished  in  my  heart,  I  would 
escape  into  the  country  and  live  far  away  from  towns.  You  should  find  me 
hidden  from  the  world,  and  contented,  in  a  little  cottage  embowered  among 
hazels  and  other  trees,  with  a  trellised  vine  in  the  front,- aod  a  cool  spring 
bubbling  near  my  door.  On  the  little  grass-plot  my  doves  would  often 
alight  and  please  me  with  their  graceful  movements,  or  receive  from  my 
hand  the  crumbs  left  on  my  table.  There  chanticleer  too  should  proudly 
strut  at  the  head  of  his  family.  And  in  a  sheltered  comer  I  would  have 
my  hives  ctf  bees,  that  the  sweetness  of  my  flowers  might  be  treasured  up, 
and  that  I  might  be  often  reminded  that  even  in  solitude  I  must  be  indus- 
trious. Behind  the  cottage  you  should  find  my  garden  for  f^uit  and  flowers, 
surrounded  with  a  hedge  of  hazels,  and  with  a  bower  at  each  comer.  Here 
I  would  employ  art,  not  to  cut  nature  into  grotesque  forms,  but  gently  to 
co-operate  ivith  her  workings,  and  to  unfold  her  beauty.  Here  would  be 
my  place  in  pleasant  weather,  where  I  could  enjoy  alternately  exercise  and 
meditation.  Then  imagine  a  little  green  pasture  near  the  garden,  and  a 
gentle  rill  flowing  beside  my  plantation,  and  spreading  at  one  point  in  its 
course  into  a  miniature  lake^  having  an  island  and  a  pleasant  bower  in  the 
middle ;  and  add  to  this  rural  inventory  a  little  vineyard,  and  one  little 
field  of  yellow  com ;  and  then  what  king  would  be  richer  than  I  ? 

tt  is  only  in  accordance  with  the  most  popular  definition 
of  poetry,  that  several  versifiers  of  the  schools  of  Leipzig,  Halle 
and  Halberstadt  can  be  called  poets.  Some  diminutive,  rather 
less  abusive  than  poetaster,  would  be  a  better  name  for  them. 
Having  little  or  nothing  to  say,  they  often  said  it  neatly;  but  too 
many  of  their  poems  were  mere  exercises  in  versification  on  worn 
topics  and  sentiments  derived  from  French  or  English  sources. 
All  the  forms  of  poetry  were  tried — ^the  lyrical,  the  epic,  and  the 
dramatic — and  some  forms  that  should  hardly  be  tolerated ;  such 
as  didactic  and  prosaic  treatises  in  verse,  on  such  themes  as  '  The 
Irrigation  of  Meadows,'  and  ^  The  Bights  of  Beason.'  Common- 
place is  too  often  made  the  theme  of  lyrical  -poetry,  of  which  the 
true  element  should  be  individuality;  here  we  find,  again  and 
again,  trite  sayings  on  friendship,  wine,  and  the  beauties  of 

n2 


180  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  UTEEATUBE.  [Gs. 

Natu]»;  with  little  true  variety  in  all  their  Yariatioiu.  In 
narrative  poetry  many  fables  are  good,  as  fiir  as  they  go, 
and^  having  sou^e  meaning,  are  better  than  the  idylls  in  which 
inane  shepherds  and  shepherdesses  appear.  Pope*8  fine  work  of 
fancy,  'The  Rape  of  tbe  Lock/  made  imitative  mock-heroie 
poems  fashionable  for  a  time.  Some  improvements — among  them 
the  iMe  ot  iambic  verse—^were  introduced  into  the  drama  by 
Weisse,  Nicolai,  and  one  of  the  Schlegels,  before  the  time  when 
Lesaing  introduced  a  national  drama.  The  rules  of  'versification 
laid  down  by  Opitz  were  mostly  obeyed  and  partly  extended,  and 
in  their  search  for  variety  of  forms,  versifiers  attempted  imitations 
of  antique  classical  metres,  and  introduced  a  prosody  partly 
founded  on  quantity.  These  services  rendered  to  the  culture  of 
language  are  valuable ;  but  they  cannot  claim  for  imitative  versi- 
fiers  a  place  among  the  poets  who  have  united  artistic  forms  of 
expression  with  great  thoughts  or  important  actions  and  paasiona. 


xivj  iiiepebicb:  n.  of  Prussia.  181 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

81XTH  PERIOD,    1726-70. 

TBSDSBTCS:  H.  OF  PBUSSIA — ^HISTORIANS — ^POFUIAB  PaiLOSOFBBBS— 
BATIOKALLSTS — ^ITBITB&S  Olf   .BSTHBTICS— WINOKBLMANN. 

Thb  pToee-writen  of  the  reign  of  Frixbrich  II.  of  Prussia  had 
mostly  something  to  say,  while  too  many  of  their  Terdfying 
cotemporaries  were  putting  trifiea  into  rhyme ;  but  few  historians 
or  publicists  were  found  capable  of  writing  worthily  of  such 
events  as  were  then  taking  place.  Many  good  essays  on  morals 
and  dn  social  life,  were  written  by  authors  belonging  to  the 
school  ot  popular  philosophy,  and,  in  the  department  of  art- 
criticism,  two  of  the  most  important  works  in  the  worid's  Uterature 
— ^the  'History  of  Ancient  Art,'  and  'The  Laokoon,' — were 
written  during  this  period.  Moral  philosophy  and  aesthetics  are 
the  departments  in  which  the  best  prose  writings  of  the  time  are 
found. 

One  of  the  more  valuable  historical  works  written  in  German, 
was  a  history  of  the  petty  state  of  OsnabrUck — a  bishopric  which 
ceased  to  exist  in  1803.  It  seems  strange  that  German  historians 
and  writers  on  politics  wrote  hardly  anything  noticeable  of  the 
greatest  events  that  had  taken  place  since 'the  Eeformation.  But 
literary  men  knew  very  little  of  the  importance  ot  such  movements 
as  the  Silesian  wars,  and  to  find  any  worthy  account  of  them  we 
must  refer  to  the  king's  own  writings ; — his  '  Contributions  to  a 
History  of  Brandenburg,'  the  '  History  of  the  Seven  Years'  War,* 
and  the  History  of  his  own  Times.  These  works,  written  by 
the  great  king  and  military  commander,  who  saved  Germany  from 
destruction,  are  written  in  French  I  They  are,  however,  so  far 
connected  with  national  literature,  that  they  may  serve  as  some 
apology  for  the  king's  neglect  of  literary  men;  With  such 
work  aa  he  had  imposed  upon  him,  he  might,  with  good  reason, 


182  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ce. 

have  neglected  far  greater  men.  While  authors  were  discnssing 
eesthetical  questions,  Austria  and  France — one  power  as  foreign  as 
the  other— were  plotting  in  order  that '  the  German  hody/  as  they 
called  it,  xnight  never  have  a  soul ;  or  might  never  be  guided 
by  a  head.  Meanwhile,  some  of  the  pstty  princes — as  they  might 
be  styled,  without  regard  to  the  areas  of  their  domains — were 
ready  to  sacrifice  nationality  to  their  meanest  personal  interests. 
It  had  been  resolved,  at  Versailles  and  Vienna,  that  the  power  of 
Prussia  must  be  first  destroyed,  and  that  then  *  the  body '  should 
be  dissected,  according  to  a  plan  of  which  all  the  details  had  been 
concerted.  To  give  the  highest  sanction  to  the  work  of  destroying 
Prussia  and  all  Germany,  the  warfare  against  Friedbich  II.  was 
to  be  waged  as  a  holy  crusade  against  an  infidel.  It  was  to  be  a 
strictly  religious  war,  and  directed  by  immediate  inspiration 
received  from  such  an  odd  source  as  Madame  de  Pompadour  I 
When  Friedrich  II.  marched  into  Saxony  to  defeat  this  conspi- 
racy, he  was  acting  strictly  on  the  defensive  and  in  favour  of  the 
establishment  of  peace.  That  'he  gave  no  aid  to  German 
literature/  has  been  made  a  grave  topic  of  complaint ;  but  it  may 
be  added  that,  without  the  hard  work  of  his  life,  neither  the  Ger- 
man people  nor  their  literature  would  have  had  much  to  boast  of 
in  1870. 

When  compared  with  the  king's  writings,  other  historical  and 
political  works  of  his  linies  have  but  a  meagre  interest  An  ex- 
ception must  be  noticed,  however,  in  the  history  of  a  petty  state 
already  named.  Justus  Moser,  the  author,-  was  bom  at  Osna- 
briick  in  1720.  He  studied  law  at  Gottingen,  and  practised,  for 
some  years,  as  an  advocate,  in  his  native  place.  For  about  twenty 
years  after  17(33,  when  the  see  of  Osnabriick  belonged  to  Friedricb, 
the  infant  son  of  George  III.  of  England,  Moser  acted  as  prime 
minister  in  all  the  political  affairs  of  the  bishopric  His  personal 
character  was  singularly  well  expressed  in  his  stately  figure,  and 
his  grave  l>ut  amiable  aspect.  Literature  for  Moser  was  an  im- 
plement to  be  used  in  the  service  of  the  state.  His  chief  work, 
the  'Osnabriick  History*  (1765-80),  is  full  of  proofs  of  the 
writer's  intelligence,  research  and  patriotism.  He  seizes  every' 
opportunity  of  exposing  the  errors  of  centralization.  The  maxim 
of  all  maxims  for  Moser  is  that  political  institutions  must  grow  up 
out  of  the  history  of  a  people.  He  will  hear  nothing  in  favour  of 
abstjract  theories;,  or  of  governments  made  upon  paper,  and  imposed 


XIVJ  HISTORIANS.  183 

on  a  people  by  some  external  power.  All  such  schemes  h« 
denounces  again  and  again  as  mechanical  and  despotic,  while  he 
advocates  self-goTomment,  carried  out  as  far  as  possible,  and  based 
on  histoiy  and  old  custom.  Moser  would  have  all  laws  developed 
from  ancient  facts.  He  often  writes  with  genial  humour  and 
effective  satire;  for  example  in  the  essay  against  the  use  of  money 
'  Throw  it  into  the  sea,'  he  says,  *  or  give  it  to  your  enemies,  as  a 
means  of.puniahiug  them.  It  can  never  be  introduced  into  any 
state  without  bringing  incalculable  evils  with  it ! '  .A  reader  who 
stops  before  he  comes  to  the  end  of  the  essay,  may  imagine  the 
writer  to  be  a  fanatic ;  but  Moser  briefly  explains  his  purport  by 
saying;  ^such  are  the  arguments  that  maybe  used  by  sophists 
against  the  principles  of  religion.' 

With  reference  to  his  moral  aims,  the  range  of  his  topics  and 
the  independent  character  impressed  on  every  page  of  his  writings, 
Justus  Moser  may  be  described  as  the  model  of  a  writer  for  the 
people.  It  is  impossible  to  read  many  passages  of  the  *  0<<nabriick 
History,'  or  of  the  '  Patriotic  Fantasies,'  without  understanding 
why  Goethe  spoke  of  Moser  as  'an  incomparable  man.'  The  last- 
named  of  his  works  is  a  miscellany  of  articles  published  at  first  in 
a  newspaper,  and  contains  many  short  essays  and  tales  mostly  de- 
voted to  utilitarian  purposes.  He  was  a  decided  enemy  of  all  the 
French  fashions  which  were  gaining  ground  in  his  time,  as  may 
be  seen  in  the  outline  of  one  of  his  stories.  Selinde,  the  heroine, 
is  an  industrious  German  maiden,  educated  in  the  ancient  homely 
fashion.  Her  evenings  are  passed  in  the  spinning-room,  where 
all  her  father's  family  ai\4  servants  are  assembled,  while  constant 
occupation  leaves  no  room  for  such  a  word  as  ennui.  But  a 
young  neighbour,  Arist,  who  pays  his  addresses  to  Selinde,  is  an 
admirer  of  refinement  and  fashion,  and  loves  to  indulge  in  ridi- 
cule against  the  antiquated  spinning-room.  He  marries  Selinde, 
and  improves  her  taste.  The  yonng  couple  become  very  fashion- 
able, neglect  the  concerns  of  their  household,  and  endeavour  to 
amuse  themselves  with  meaningless  trifles.  But  time  passes 
now  more  tediously  than  in  the  spinning-rcom.  Arist  sees 
that  his  wife  is  unhappy,  though  she  will  not  confess  it.  At 
last  he  confesses  that  there  is  more  happiness  in  useful  occupation 
than  in  frivolity.  Selinde  hears  this  confession  with  c^elight: 
the  spinning-room  is  restored ;  and  the  old  style  triumphs  over 
the  new. 


184  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE,  [Ca 

It  is  merely  with  respect  for  his  patriotic  character  that 
Fbiedbich  CablMoseb  (1723>98),  can  be  named  here.  He  was 
a  yery  industrious  publicist,  but  the  style  of  his  works  has  no 
attractions.  He  would  insert  anything  in  any  place,  and  in  this 
way  he  rambled  through  more  than  aliundred  books  and  pamphlets 
on  such  topics  as  '  German  Nationality/  '  Political  Truths/  and 
'Master  and  Servant'  Moser,  whose  knowledge  of  courts  was 
partly  founded  on  his  own  observations,  described  a  cotemporary 
political  writer,  as  *  the  good,  gentle,  amiable,  republican  Iselik, 
who  knows  princes  only  by  engravings  of  their  portraits.'  This  is 
one  of  the  livelier  examples  of  Moser's  satirical  vein.  The  histo- 
rical writer  thus  censured,  Isaao  Iselin  (1728-82),  wrote  a  series 
of  *  Conjectures  on  the  History  of  Mankind/  and  a  '  Discourse  on 
Patriotism,'  which  have  been  commended  as  indicating  a  philoso- 
phical treatment  of  history,  such  as  was  afterwards  suggested  and 
partly  carried  out  by  Herder.  Iselin  was  not  afraid  of  extensive 
problems;  for  he  attempted  to  explain  the  true  causes  of  the 
decline  of  Greek  and  Roman  civilisation.  His  argument  may  be 
called  tautological ;  for  he  tells  us  little  more  than  that  ancient 
civilisation  was  not  permanent  because  it  was  not  founded  on 
permanent  virtues. 

Several  prose-writers  who  wrote  on  history  and  politics  in 
these  times,  were  associated  by  their  common  tendency  towards 
utilitarian  doctrines.  Thomas  Abbt  (1738-66),  especially  de- 
manded that  all  literature  should  be  devoted  to  utility.  *  Write 
for  the  people,'  was  his  rule,  and  it  was  obeyed  by  Johank  Hir- 
ZEL  (1725-1803),  who  wrote  a  book  entitled  *  The  Economy  of 
a  Philosophical  Peasant,'  partly  founded *on  the  true  personal  his- 
tory of  a  Bauer,  or  small  farmer,  of  whom  the  writer  made  a  rural 
Socrates.  Though  his  writings  were  partly  historical,  Hirzel 
might  be  classed  with  the  so-called  'popular  philosophers'  of  his 
times.  They  were  mostly  men  of  talent,  without  genius,  who  wrote 
with  clearness  and  sobriety,  and  generally  with  some  useful  pui'port. 
Their  views  on  religion  and  on  the  foundations  of  morals,  were 
generally  such  as  at  a  rather  later  time  were  called  rationalistic ', 
but  they  hardly  understood  all  the  results  of  their  own  principles. 
In  this  respect  they  were  like  the  earlier  rationalists  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

Gne  bf  the  best  of  the  popular  philosophers  was  Mobes  Menbels- 
SOHN  (1729-66),  an  Israelite,  already  named  aa  Lessing's  friend. 


XIV.]  POPULAB  PHILOSOPHEES.  185 

He  wrote  seyeral  didactic  works,  including '  Fbaedon/  a  dialogue 
on  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  which  was  partly  a  free  translation 
from  Plato,  hut  gave  some  expansion  to  the  original  argument. 
When  Lavater,  tbe  Pietist,  rudely  endeavoured  to  convert  Mendels- 
sohn to'Christianity,  there  were  not  a  few  who  suspected  that  the 
Israelite  was  capable  of  giving  lessons  on  true  religion  to  Lavater. 
The  author  of '  Phaedon '  contended,  that  the  highest  utility  must 
be  found  in  moral  philosophy.  '  I  cannoi  read,'  he  says, '  without 
pity  the  opinion  of  a  French  writer  that ''  the  efforts  of  Reaumur 
to  .preserve  carpets  and  tapestry  from  the  ravages  of  moths,  were 
more  worthy  of  admiration  than  all  the  moral  speculations  of 
Leibnitz !  "  Is  not  this  saying  that  the  vain  luxuries  of  our  houses 
are  of  more  importance  than  our  own  souls,  or  even  than  the 
honour  of  the  DiTine' character,  which  may  be  misrepresented  by 
a  false  philosophy  ?  On  the  other  side,  I  would  assert  that,  even 
if  the  alchymists  had  succeeded  in  their  eiforts,  and  had  turned 
every  stone  on  the  earth's  surface  into  gold,  they  would  have 
made  an  absurd  mistake  if  they  had  regarded  such  a  feat  as  the . 
completion  and  final  triumph  of  philosophy.' 

Ghbishan  Gabvb  (1742-98),  another  of  the  popular  philoso- 
phersy  was,  with  regard  to  his  style,  one  of  the  best  of  all  the 
prose-writers  of  the  eighteenth  century.  He  wrote  mostly  short 
essays  on  morals  and  on  literary  culture — especially  on  style — and 
was  employed  by  Fbisdbich  II.  to  translate  Cicero's  treatise  on 
the  '  Duties  of  Life.'  The  king  gave  some  suggestions  for  the 
annotations  appended  to  the  work,  and  bestowed  on  Garve  -a  small 
pension  of  two  hundred  dollars.  Garve  was  remarkable  for  the 
patience  with  which  he  endured  a  long  affliction,  and  for  his 
modesty.  With  reference  to  Kant's  writings,  he  said; — *I  do 
not  find  myself  at  home  in  the  higher  regions  of  philosophy ;  I 
must  have  some  practical  object  in  view.''  He  would  write 
only  on  such  subjects  as  he  could  clearly  understand.  In  a 
pleasant  essay  on  the  '  Scenery  of  Mountainous  Countries,'  he  says 
nothing  of  Kant's  new  cesthetic  doctrines ;  nothing  of  the  sublime 
effect  of  vast  physical  objects  in  exciting  a  consciousness  of  '  a 
moral  power  stronger  than  all  nature.'  One  of  the  chief  causes  of 
the  impressive  character  of  mountain  scenery,  says  Garve,  is  that 
we  see  more  objects  on  the  side  of  a  mountain  than  could  be  seen 
on  a  plain  of  the  same  extent 

One  of  the  best  rivals  of  Garve,  in  the  use  of  a  clear  and  popular 


186  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  IITERATUBE.  [Cb. 

style,  was  Jakob  Eno^  (1741-1802),  the  author  of  'Lorenz 
Stark/  a  domestic  novel,  and  of  other  stories,  all  intended  to  con- 
vey moral  instruction.  Ho  published,  in  1775-77,  his '  Philosopher 
for  the  World,'  a  series  of  essays,  sketches  aild  stories,  to  which 
Mendelssohn,  Garve,  and  Eberhard  contributed.  Though  the 
dates  of  his  works  extend  a  few  years  beyond  1770,  Engel  be- 
longed to  the  school  of  popular  philosophers,  and  ably  represented 
their  practical  purport,  their  sobriety,  and  their  self-complacency. 
En  gel's  prose  rises  to  an  eloquent  strain  in  his  Eulogium  of 
Friedrich  II. 

It  is  rather  difficult  to  define  the  school  of  popular  philosophy ; 
for  it  might  include  such  theologians  as  Gboro  Joachim  Zolliko- 
TER  (1730-88),  an  excellent  preacher  and  writer  on  practical  religion ; 
JoHANN  Ebbrhabd  (1739-1809),  who,  in  his  'Apology  of  So- 
crates' (1772),  opposed  the  doctrine  that  the  souls  of  heathen 
men  must  be  excluded  from  heaven ;  and  JoHAinr  SPALBiKe 
(1714-1804),  who  might  be  also  classed  with  the  earlier  rational- 
ists, as  he  wrote  against  Pietism  and  described  ethics  as  the  basis 
of  religion.  Gellebt,  already  noticed  as  a  poet,  wrote  in  a  popu- 
lar style  on  moral  philosophy,  and  may  therefore  be  named  here. 
Another  aatbor,  sometimes  classed  with  this  school,  Johaitit 
ZiKUERMAKir  (1728-95),  was  a  physician  at  the  court  of  Hanover. 
He  gained  his  popularity  by  a  book  '  On  Solitude,'  and  disgraced 
himself  by  writing  to  display  his  own  egotism  and  vanity  under  a 
pretence  of  giving  some  account  of  the  last  days  of  Friedrich  II. 
of  Prussia.  Zimmermann  was  one  of  the  physicians  in  attendance 
on  the  king,  during  his  last  illness,  and  seized  the  opportunity  of 
making  a  bad  book !  Such  men  as  Zimmermann  and  Lavater  could 
know  nothing  of  the  king's  latest  thoughts.  He  has  been  com- 
monly described  as  an  atheist ;  but  some  expressions  found  in  his 
later  letters  might  support  the  assertion,  that  his  belief  respecting 
a  First  Cause  was  not  altogether  unlike  Kant's  doctrine ; — ^Where 
reason  fails,  the  voice  of  conscience  alone  must  be  accepted  as  a 
revelation. 

The  assertion  of  the  rights  of  free  inquiry  and  the  rise  of  the 
earlier  rationalistic  theology  of  these  times  can  hardly  be  described 
as  taking  place  in  any  well-defined  period.  They  had  been  pre- 
ceded by  the  study  of  French  and  English  writings  on  natural 
religion  (so-called)  when  HERXAinir  Sahttel  Reix abits  (1694- 
1768),  author  of  <  The  Wolfenbiittel  FragmentB>'  edited  by  Lea- 


XrVJ  EATIONAUSTS.  •  187 

sing,  wrote  (1754)  his  *  Principles  of  Natural  ReKgion/ which  was 
followed,  in  1760,  by  a  more  interesting  work  on  '  The  Instincts 
of  Animals.'  In  the  latter,  he  reations  in  favour  of  the  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,  and  evidently  places  great  trust  in  his  arguments 
founded  on  analogy.  Having  noticed  a  harmony  between  the 
instincts  of  animals  and  their  destinies,  he  continues  thus  ] — 

It  is  as  natural  in  us  to  look  forward  beyond  this  world,  as  it  is  in  the 
lower  animals  to  remain  satisfied  with  their  present  life.  Their  nature  is 
confined  within  certain  bounds ;  our  own  is  distinguished  by  its  capacity  of 
continual  development ;  and  a  desire  for  such  development  has  been  planted 
in  us  by  our  Creator. 

Now  where  do  we  find  instincts  falsified-  in  the  plan  of  nature  ?  Where 
do  we  see  an  instance  of  a  creature  endowed  with  an  instinct  craving  a 
certain  kind  of  food  in  a  world  where  no  snch  food  can  be  found  ?  Are  the 
swallows  deceived  bv  their  instinct  when  they  iiy  away  from  clouds  and 
storms  to  find  a  wanner  country?  Do  they  not  find  a  milder  climate 
beyond  the  water?  When  the  May-flies  and  other  aquatic  insects  leave 
their  husks,  expand  their  wings,  and  soar  from  the  water  into  the  air,  do 
they  not  find  an  atmosphere  fitted  to  sustain  them  in  a  new  stage  of  life  ? 
Certainly.  The  voice  of  nature  does  not  utter  false  prophecies.  It  is  the 
call,  the  invitation  of  the  Creator  addressed  to  his  creatures.  And  if  this  ia 
true  with  regard  to  the  impulses  of  physicxil  life,  why  should  it  not  be  true 
with  regard  to  the  superior  instincts  of  the  human  soid  ? 

Confidence  in  such  reasonings  as  are  expressed  in  the  above 
paragraphs  was  a  characteristic  of  both  the  popular  philosophers 
and  the  rationalists  of  the  eighteenth  century.  For  them  history, 
or  any  other  external  authority,  could  hardly  be  more  than  an 
echo  of  a  verdict  pronounced  by  reason,  ^hey  were  not  altogether 
negative  in  their  aims ;  the  tenets  which  they  held  as  true — such 
as  the  existence  of  God  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul — ^were 
held  firmly,  while  the  lurguments  used  to  support  them  were 
mostly  dogmatic.  Several  of  their  expositions  of  natural  theology 
were  shallow  and  optimistic;  they  neither  looked  on  the  dark 
side  of  nature,  nor  tested  the  logic  on  which  their  physico-theo- 
logical  arguments  were  founded.  That  such  a  thinker  as  Kani 
might  come,  some  day,  and  demolish  their  proofs  for  the  three 
chief  tenets  of  natural  religion  was  a  possibility  hardly  dreamed 
of  by  the  earlier  rationalists.  Their  general  negative  tendency 
was  to  reject,  or  to  explain  away,  all  statements  of  miraculous 
events,  and  their  attempts  to  explain,  rather  than  reject,  such 
statements  were,  in  several  instances,  ridiculous  in  the  extreme. 
In  their  zeal  for  enlightenment^  they  separated  light  fircm  warmth, 


188  OUTLINES  OE  GERMAN  LITEBATUBE.  [Ck. 

and  their  cold  intellectual  and  ethical  system— devised  as  a  sub- 
stitute for  religion — excluded  both  feeling  and  imagination.  The 
common  intuitions  found  in  the  highest  poetry,  as  well  as  in 
the  superstitions  of  all  peoples,  were  treated  as  empty  fictions. 
Philosophical  speculation  was  ridiculed  if  it  contained  anything 
better  than  commonplace.  Truth  that  did  not  seem  obvious  to 
NiGOLAi,  the  enlightened  bookseller  at  Berlin,  or  to  Db.  Bahrdt 
(1741-92),  was  set  at  nought. 

These  and  other  charges  may  be  justly  preferred  against  several 
of  the  more  negative  writers  on  theology.  But  the  earlier  ration- 
alists must,  by  no  means,  be  described  as  writers  who  strictly 
belonged  to  one  school.  The  last-named  author  stood  almost 
alone  as  an  iudecent,  burlesque  polemic  It  was  with  reference 
to  men  who  only  remotely  resembled  Bahrdt,  that  Leasing  said  of 
Berlin, '  all  the  liberty  you  enjoy  there  is  that  of  publishing  stupid 
jokes  against  religion.'  This  may  suffice  to  indicate  the  fact, 
that  there  was  an  upper  and  a  lower  school' of  rationalism.  To 
the  former  belonged  such  men  as  Wilhklm  Abrahaic  Telleb 
(1734-1804),  who  published,  in  1764,  a  <  Manual  of  Bational 
Christianity/  and  another  representative  of  the  upper  school  might 
be  found  in  Johaitk  Fbibdbich  Jerusalem  (1709-89),  a  man  of 
high  culture  and  one  of  the  best  preachers  of  his  time.  The 
affliction  by  which  his  old  age  was  overshadowed — ^his  son's  suicide 
— gave  rise  to  the  publication  of  Goethe's  ^  Sorrows  of  Werther.' 

Apart  from  their  negative  criticism  and  from  their  special  tenets, 
the  more  thoughtful  men  among  the  earlier  rationalists  kept 
in  view,  nM>re  or  less  distinctly,  a  common  object  It  was  to  assert, 
that  the  essentials  of  practical  religion  may  be  distinguished  from 
all  the  traditional  forms  through  which  they  have  been  conveyed, 
and  may  be  maintained  and  promulgated  without  any  aid  derived 
from  a  systematic  orthodoxy,  or  from  an  infisdlible  church. 

In  Ecclesiastical  history  a  very  extensive  work  was  partly  issued 
in  this  period — '  The  History  of  the  Christian  Church,'  by  Johaitn 
Matthias  Sohrockh  (1783-1808).  The  whole  work,  in  thirty- 
five  volumes,  was  completed  in  1803.  The  name  of  JoHAmr 
LoREKZ  MosHSDC  (1694-1755),  reminds  us  that,  in  his  times,  the 
old  prejudices  of  learned  men  against  ther  use  of  their  native 
tongue  had  not  disappeared.  He  was  an  excellent  preacher,  and  . 
could  write  well  in  German ;  but  his  chief  work— a  *  History  of 
the  Christian  Church'— was  written  in  Latin.     In  the  same 


i 


XIV.]  WETTEBS  ON  -aESTHETICS.  189 

language  Jaxob  Bbugebb  (1696-1770),  wrote  'A  Critical 
Histoiy  of  Philosopliy/  which  is  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  extent 
of  its  erudition.  It  appeared  in  an  English  translation  by  Enfield 
in  1791. 

The  historical  and  didactic  worhs  already  noticed  are  mostly 
characterised  by  the  reformatory  tendency  of  the  timee.  A  dis- 
content with  the  pasty  like  that  then  growing  formidable  in 
France,  existed  also  in  Germany,  near  the  dose  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  but  here  found  more  subdued  forms  of  utterance  in  at- 
tempts to  renovate  the  style  of  German  Literature.  Of  all  these 
endeavours  the  most  suceasful,  on  the  whole,  are  found  in  works 
belonging  to  the  department  of  ^Esthetics,  including  the  theory 
and  the  criticism  of  poetry  and  art.  One  of  the  earliest  critics  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  CHRiSTUiir  Lxtdwio  Liscow  (1701-60), 
wrote  satires  on  several  of  the  obscure  writers  of  his  times.  His 
own  prose-style  was  pure  and  vigorous. — The  objects  of  lesthetic 
studies  were  defined  in  a  Latin  treatise  entitled  '^sthetica' 
(1750),  written  by  Alexander  Gottlieb  BAinceABTEN  (1714- 
62).  His  disciple  Friedkioh  Meier  (1718-77),  wrote,  about  the 
same  time,  a  German  treatise  on  *  The  First  Principles  of  the  FLue 
Arts.'  Several  years  later,  Johaw  Gbobg  Sitlzeb  (1720-79), 
published  '  A  Theory  of  the  Fine  Arts ; '  but  made  hardly  any 
innovation  on  the  doctrines  already  asserted  by  Bodmer  and  his 
friend  Breitinger.  These  theoretical  works  were  mostly  both 
formal  and  arbitrary.  Tbeir  theory  did  not  include  any  true 
analysis  of  the  best  works  of  art,  and  their  rules  were  not  derived 
from  any  extensive  survey  of  art  and  literature. 

Lessing*s  writings  must  be  noticed  apart  from  those  of  the 
minor  critics  above  named ;  but  his  friend  Christoph  Feiedrigh 
NicoLAi  (1733-1811),  may  be  classed  with  minor  writers  on 
.^thetics.  In  the  capacity  of  a  bookseller  and  as  the  friend  of 
Lessing,  Nicolai  rendered  to  literature  services  &r  more  important 
than  any  to  be  found  in  his  own  writings.  His  *  Library  of  Belles 
Lettres  *  (1767),  the  '  Literary  Letters,'  to  which  Lessing  contri- 
buted (1769-66),  and  the  new  *  General  German  Library,*  ex- 
tending to  fifty-six  volumes — all  contributed  to  the  literary  pro- 
gress made  in  his  times ;  but  in  his  own  books,  Nicolai  made  him- 
self ridiculous  as  an  intolerant  and  shallow  dedaimer  against 
philosophy.  He  wrote  scornfully  of  everything  that  he  could  not 
easily  understand — ^Kant's  works  for  ezample^and  set  up  his  own 


•  190     OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.     [Oh. 

notions  as  the  final  standai'd  of  common  sense.  It  must  be  allowed 
that  he  did  not  write  severely  without  some  provocation,  caused 
by  the  literary  reyolntiou  that  took  place  during  his  later  years. 
When  *  The  Sorrows  of  Werther '  had  appeared  and  had  spread  a 
sentimental  epidemic,  the  sarcastic  bookseller  issued  his  '  Joys  of 
Werther ' — not  to  ridicule  Goethe,  but  to  suggest  a  cure  for  the 
monomania  of  the  times.  It  was  Nicolai*s  misfortune  that  he 
lived  beyond  his  own  period  into  the  times  when  wild  young  poets, 
with  Goethe  at  their  head^  were  asserting  unheard-of  claims  to 
original  genius.  To  ridicule  their  extravagHnce,  Nicolai  wrote 
his  absurd  *  Story  of  a  Fat  Man.'  Ela  best  work,  the  description 
of  *  A  Journey  through  Germany  imd  Switzerland/  contains  his 
own  opinions  on  literature  and  politics.  In  his  Sebaldtu  Noihanker 
(1773-76),  he  wrote  mostly  against  orthodoxy  and  Pietism.  On 
the  whole,  Nicolai  was  fairly  described  as  a  shallow  burlesque  or 
caricature  of  Lessing.  At  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  and  in  the 
opening  of  the  nineteenth  century,  when  such  men  as  Hamann, 
Herder,  and  Goethe  were  looking  onwards  for  the  dawn  of  a  new 
epoch,  a  critic  like  the  Berlin  Bookseller  was  as  obsolete  as  an  old 
fossil  His  extinction  was  not  so  sudden  as  that  of  Gottsched,  the 
great  Leipzig  critic ;  but  it  was  equally  complete. 

None  of  the  critics  aboye  named-:>always  excepting  Lessing — 
had  either  the  genius  or  the  learning  required  for  writing  on  the 
theory  of  Art  and  Poetry.  Their  definitions  and  their  criticisms 
were  formal,  narrow  and  arbitrary,  and  they  judged  works  of 
genius  before  they  had  learned  to  read  them.  But  there  was 
living  in  their  times,  an  obscure  man  who,  while  struggling  with 
extreme  poverty,  was  preparing  himself  to  establish  a  new  school 
of  (esthetic  criticism;  nay,  to  do  far  more  than  that — to  give  life 
to  the  dry  bones  that  had  been  labelled  '  archaeology '  and  '  philo- 
logy.' He  wrote,  at  first,  of  ancient  sculptures ;  but  his  works 
introduced  a  new  epoch  in  eesthetic  theory  and  criticism,  and  have 
still  a  living  interest  in  connection  with  the  study  of  philology. 

JoHANir  Joachim  Winckelmann,  the  son  of  a  poor  shoemaker, 
was  bom  at  Stendal  in  the  Altmark  in  1717.  He  educated  him- 
self, in  the  midst  of  great  privations  and  hardships,  and,  during 
his  youth,  could  scarcely  gain  the  means  of  subsistence.  When 
thirty-one  years  old,  he  was  engaged  as  secretary  and  assistant 
librarian  at  Dresden,  where  the  treasures  of  the  Art  Gallery  aided 
his  studies,  but  did  not  satisfy  his  desire  to  explore  the  history  of 


XIV.]  WINCKEl.MANN.  191 

ancient  art  This  was  the  one  great  object  of  his  ambition,  and  he 
was  ready  to  make  almost  any  sacrifice  in  order  to  attain  it  For  him 
Home  was  the  centre  of  the  world^  because  the  richest  stores  of 
art  were  there  collected.  Willing  not  only  to  leave  home  but  to  for- 
sake the  fatherland  where  he  had  suffered  so  much  privation,  he  e]>  • 
deavoured  to  gain  an  appointment  as  librarian  to  Cardinal  Pas- 
sionei,  the  owner  of  tlie  most  extensive  private  library  in  Rome* 
One  condition  indispensable  for  his  success  was  that  Winckelmann 
should  change  his  creed.  It  may  be  fairly^doubted,  whether  he  ever 
had  any  creed^  except  his  firm  belief  in  the  beauty  of  ancient 
Greek  sculptures.  He  had  been  formally  a  Protestant,  but  his 
friends  had  commonly  regarded  him  as  a  free-thinker.  However, 
after  some  years  of  hesitation  and  *  with  a  heavy  heart '  (as  he 
said),  he  fulfilled  the  condition,  went  over  to  the  Roman  Church, 
and  made  himself  an  Italian,  in  order  that  he  might  study  ancient 
works  of  art  By  this  conversion  he  gained  the  patronage  of  the 
great  cardinal,  Alexander  Albani,  one  of  the  wealthiest  collectors 
of  works  of  art  in  Rome,  who  was  then  busy  in  enriching  the 
galleries  of  his  fine  villa  at  Porta  Solara.  Winckelmann  lived  in 
the  cardinal's  palace,  and  was  treated  as  a  friend ;  but  received  no 
great  salary.  He,  however,  had  abundant  leisure  for  collecting 
materials  for  his  great  work  on  ancient  art.  In  1763  he  was 
appointed  prssfect  of  antiquities  and,  in  this  capacity,  he  often 
acted  as  Cicerone  to  distinguished  visitors  in  Rome.  His  learning 
had  widely  extended  his  reputation  among  Italian  and  German 
students  of  archaeology,  and  he  received  many  invitations  to  visit 
friends  in  the  cold  northern  dime  where  he  had  suffered  so  many 
hardships  in  his  youth.  He  hesitated;  but  at  last,  was  seized 
with  a  longing  to  see  his  native  land  once  more.  Accordingly  he 
left  Romo  in  1768  and,  accompanied  by  an  Italian  sculptor  named 
Cavaceppi,  travelled  towlirds  the  north.  When  they  reached  the 
Tyrolese  mountains,  Winckelmann  seemed  oppressed  by  melan- 
choly forebodings,  and  expressed  his  earnest  desire  to  return  to 
Italy.  With  difficulty  he  was  induced  to  continue  his  jom-ney. 
He  seemed  to  be,  for  a  time,  almost  deprived  of  reason*  and 
possessed  by  one  fixed  thought,  that  he  must  return  to  Rome. 
When  furUier  persuasion  was  foimd  useless,  his  fellow-traveller 
left  him  in  Vienna  where  he  was  introduced  to  the  Empress  Maria 
Theresia,  from  whom  he  received  a  present  in  gold  coins  of  con- 
.fiiderable  value.    He  then  travelled  towards  Trieste^  intending  to 


192  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEEATUBE.  [Gh. 

embark  there  for  Venice.  On  his  way  to  Trieste^  as  some  accomits 
Bay,  or  in  en  hotel  there,  he  became  acquainted  with  an  Italian 
convict  named  Arcangeli  recently  discharged  from  a  prison.  The 
cupidity  of  this  miscreant  was  excited,  it  seems,  by  a  sight  of 
•  the  gold  coins  brought  from  Vienna.  On  June  8,  1768,  Winckel- 
mann,  stabbed  in  five  places,  was  found  dying  in  his  chamber. 
The  criminal,  Arcangeli,  was  so  soon  detected  that  he  failed  to 
carry  off  his  booty.    He  was  executed  a  fortnight  afterwards. 

Winckelmann's  first  4^ork,  his  '  Thoughts  on  the  Imitation  of 
Grecian  Paintings  and  Sculptures '  (1765),  contained  the  germs 
of  the  ideas  that  were  at  last  developed  in  his  '  History  of  Ancient 
Art,'  written  during  his  residence  in  Rome  and  printed  at  Dresden 
in  1764.  Its  publication  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  epoch  in  the 
history  and  criticism  of  ancient  art.  The  work  soon  acquired  a 
European  reputation,  and  was  accepted  as  a  theory  as  well  as  a 
histoiy  of  Grecian  sculpture.  Its  erudition  and  its  graceful  style 
were  generally  admired,  and  its  disquisitions  on  the  union  of  an- 
cient art  with  social,  political,  and  religious  institutions,  suggested 
a  new  style  of  treating  general  archaeology.  The  treatise  is 
divided  into  four  sections,  of  which  the  first  is  introductory  and 
explains  several  circumstances  that  were  favourable  to  the  culture 
of  Grecian  art.  Its  essential  characteristiop  are  described  in  the 
second  part,  and  its  growth  and  decline  in  the  third.  The  fourth 
section  is  devoted  to  the  mechanism  of  art,  and  is  followed  by  an 
accotlnt  of  ancient  painting.  Among  external  causes  of  the  excel- 
lence of  Greek  artists,  the  influence  of  a  fine  climate  is  noticed ; 
but  more  attention  is  bestowed  on  the  moral  and  intellectual 
qualities  of  the  Hellenic  people  and  on  their  forms  of  govemme;it. 
Winckelmann  was  an  enthusiast  in  his  admiration  of  the  ancient 
Greeks,  and,  in  describing  their  character  and  their  institutions^ 
lie  hardly  throws  any  shade  into  the  picture.  He  tells,  with 
apparent  delight,  how  they  harmonised  their  physical  veith  their 
mental  culture ;  how  every  noble  power  was  developed  in  their 
system  of  education  and  especially  in  their  public  festivals ;  how 
men  of  genius  contended  for  the  palm  in  athletic  exercises,  and 
knew  nothing  of  that  contempt  of  physical  life  which  was  intro- 
duced in  monastic  times.  Plato  was  once  a  wrestler  in  the 
Isthmian  games ;  Pythagoras  gained  a  prize  at  Elis,  and  acted  as 
the  trainer  of  Eurymenes;  homage  was  paid  to  the  statue  of 
Eathymus,  one  of  the  greatest  of  all  the  victon  at  i^Jis;  the 


^ 


XIV.]  ANCIENT  AET.  193 

faculties  of  men  were  not  confined  by  minute  diyisions  of  labour ; 
a  sculptor  migbt  rise  to  command  an  army ;  the  emperor  Marcus 
Aurelius  received  lessons  in  moral  philosophy  from  a  painter ; — 
these  are  some  of  the  facts  of  which  the  historian  of  ancient  art 
writes  with  enthusiasm.  The  following  brief  passages  may  serve 
to  suggest  some  contrasts  between  ancient  and  modem  times : — 

One  great  consequence  of  the  general  appreciation  of  beauty  among  the 
Greeks,  was  that  the  artiat  was  not  condemned  to  work  to  gratify  the  pride, 
vanity,  or  caprice  of  any  one  noble  patron ;  bat  was  supported  and  en- 
couraged in  the  efforts  of  genius  by  the  general  voice  of  the  people.  And 
this  people  was  not  a  rude,  untaught  democracy,  but  was  under  the  direc- 
tion of  the  wisest  minds.  The  honours  which  were  awarded  by  public  as- 
semblies to  competitors  in  art,  were  in  general  fairly  and  intelligently 
distributed.  In  the  time  of  Phidias,  there  w&s  at  Corinth,  as  also  at  Delphi, 
a  public  exhibition  of  paintings,  over  which  the  most  competent  judges 
presided.  Here  Panaenus,  the  rdative  of  Phidias,  contended  for  a  prize 
with  Timagoras  of  Chalcis,  when  the  latter  proved  victorious.  Before  such 
competent  adjudicators  Aetion  produced  his  painting  of  *  Alexander's 
Marriage  with  Roxana,*  and  Proxenides,  the  judge  who  pronounced  the 
decision,  was  so  well  pleased  with  the  work,  that  he  gave  Iiis  daughter  in 
marriage  to  the  painter.  Universal  fame  did  not  unfairly  prevail  over 
rising  merit.  At  Samoa,  in  the  exhibition,  of  several  paintings  of  the 
'  Weapons  of  Achilles,'  the  renowned  Parrhasius  was  defeated  by  a  com- 
petitor named  Timanthes.  .  .  . 

Art  was  chiefly  devoted  to  its  highest  objects — the  exposition  of  religious 
ideas,  or  of  the  nobler  developments  of  human  life — and  did  not  stoop  to 
make  trivial  playthings,  or  to  furnish  the  private  houses  of  rich  men  with 
ostentatious  luxuries  ;  for  rich  citizens  in  the  best  days  of  Athens  lived  in 
houses  modestly  and  sparingly  furnished,  while  they  subscribed  munificently 
to  raise  costly  and  beautiful  statues  in  the  public  temples.  Miltiades, 
Themistocles,  Aristides,  and  Gimon,  the  chieftains  and  deliverers  of  their 
country,  did  not  distinguish  themselves  from  their  feUow-dtizens  by  dwell- 
ing in  grand  and  expensive  houses. 

Winckelmann's  theory  of  ancient  Greek  sculpture  is  ideal. 
He  maintains  that  the  artiist  studied  the  intention  as  well  aa  the 
individual  expressions  of  nature,  and  that  his  aim  was  to  make  aU 
real  forms  and  actions  subordinate  to  a  general  idea  of  beauty. 
Thus  the  critic  explains  the  repose  and  the  simplicity  of  the 
finest  ancient  sculptures;  their  flowing  line  of  contour,  to  which 
all  minor  features  are  made  subservient^  and  their  quiet  dignity 
when  action  is  represented. 

The  effects  of  TVinckelmann's  theoiyand  critidsm  have  not 
been  confined  to  th«  department  of  sculpture.  He  gave  a  new 
life  to  the  study  of  archasology.  Some  of  the  beat  thoughts  in 
Lessing's   essay^  *The    Laokoon/  were  suggested  by  the  first 

0 


194  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEBATTTBE.  [Oh. 

historian  of  art.  His  observations  on  the  union  of  art  with  the 
Social  institutions  of  ancient  Greece  are  partly  applicable  to 
literature,  as  well  as  to  art,  and  suggest  an  ideal  towards  which 
modem  culture  should  direct  its  endeavours.  Grecian  literature 
was  a  Hteratuie  of  life :  it  was  intimately  blended  with  the  life, 
the  progress,  the  actual  interests  of  the  people.  Poets  sung,  and 
historians  wrote,  as  8culptx)rs  and  painters  worked,  not  for  a  few 
student.,  but  for  the  people.  Even  the  highest  philosophy  as  ex- 
pounded by  Plato,  was  not  purely  abstract ;  but  was  interwoven 
with  human  sympathies  and  social  interests.  The  physical  and 
the  intellectual  powers  of  human  nature  were  harmoniously  culti- 
vated. The  man,  in  his  full  and  complete  definition,  was  not 
sacriBced  in  order  to  make  a  poet,  or  a  musician,  or  an  historian  ; 
but  poetry,  philosophy,  history,  and  all  the  fine  arts  were  em- 
ployed to  produce  the  most  complete  and  beautiful  development 
of  human  nature.  This  was  the  aim  which  prevailed  through  the 
whole  of  Grecian  culture ;  and  it  is  a  noble  object  to  restore  such 
a  purpose  to  modem  cultivation. 

The  writings  of  Klopstock,  Lessing  and  Wieland  unite  the  lite- 
rature of  the  eighteenth  with  that  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Klop- 
BTOCE  expressed  one  great  idea ;  that  of  a  union  of  Christianity 
with  a  national  poetry,  and  if  he  failed  to  realise  it,  the  failure 
was  nobler  than  any  commonplace  success.  hisssrsQ  developed 
the  ideal  of  a  national  literature,  founded  on  a  union  of  poetry  and 
speculation,  and  expressed  in  artistic  forms.  Wieland,  by  the 
variety  of  his  subjects  and  the  clearness  and  fluency  of  his  diction, 
distinguished  hiniself  from  the  crowd  of  minor  authors  who  lived 
in  his  times.  His  succe^.,  in  extending  among  the  higher  classes 
of  society — especially  in  the  south  of  Germany — a  taste  for  imagi- 
native literature,  gives  to  his  writings  some  historical  importance. 
It  is  only  with  a  regard  to  the  extent  of  their  power  and  influenpe, 
that  Klopstocki  Lessing  and  Wieland^  are  classed  together  in  tiie 
next  chapter* 


XYJ  KLOPSTOCK.     •  195 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BIXTH  PERIOD.     1726-1770. 

KLOPSTOCK — jaasoxQ — "msLksxn. 

Friedrich  Gottlibb  Elopstoce^  bom  at  Quedlinburg  in  1724, 
studied  at  Schulpforte  (one  of  the  best  clasdcal  schools  in  Saxony), 
where  he  read  not  only  Greek  and  Boman  authors,  but  also 
Tasso  and  Milton.  In  1745  he  went  to  Jena  to  complete  his  edu- 
cation, and  there  made  a  sketch  in  prose  of  some  part  of  his  epic, 
'The  Messias.'  In  the  course  of  the  next  year  he  went  to  Leipzig, 
where  he  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  several  of  the  contributors  to 
the  Bremer  Beitrdge,  In  1748  there  appeared  in  that  literary 
journal  the  first  three  cantos  of  *  The  Messiaa,'  a  poem  in  hexa- 
meter Terse.  The  author's  name  was  not  given ;  but  it  was  soon 
known.  Bodmer,  the  Swiss  critic,  hailed  the  work,  as  a  realisa^ 
tion  of  his  own  notions  of  what  poetry  ought  to  be,  and  invited 
the  writer  to  come  and  stay  at  Zurich.  After  staying  some 
months  in  Switzerland,  Klopstock  was  looking  out  for  a  situation 
as  a  teacher,  when  he  received  a  small  pension  from  Friedrich  V. 
king  of  Denmark,  and  went  to  live  at  Copenhagen,  with  nothing 
to  do  there  but  to  complete  his  epic.  On  his  journey,  he  stayed 
a  few  days  at  Hamburg,  and  there  became  acquainted  with  Meta 
Moller,  a  yoiing  woman  of  considerable  literary  attainments,  whom 
he  soon  afterwards  married.  Their  union  was  remarkably  £appy, 
and  her  death,  in  1758,  was  the  greatest  sorrow  in  all  the  expe- 
rience of  Klopstock.  His  pension  helped  him  to  live  free  from 
cares  and  to  devote  his  thoughts  to  poetry ;  yet  his  progress  in 
writing  the  twenty-one  cantos  of  his  epic  was  very  slow.  He 
began  his  work  when  he  was  only  twenty-one  years  old,  but  did 
not  finish  it  until  he  was  forty-six.  •  The  fourth  and  fifth  cantos 
appeared  in  1761 ;  six  more  were  published  after  an  interval  of 
seven  years  and  the  last  five  cantos  were  coldly  received  by  the 

o2  • 


196  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cfl. 

public  in  1773.  It  had  become  more  and  more  apparent,  that  the 
author  bad  written  without  a  preconceived  plan.  The  sufferings 
and  the  death  of  the  Messias  occupied  hardly  more  than  half  the 
work;  and  in  this  par6  a  want  of  continuous'  narrative  interest  was 
ill  supplied  by  long  speeches  and  conversations.  The  author 
gained  a  European  reputation ;  but  his  poem  was  not  read  as  a 
whole.  Goethe  tells  us,  that  one  of  his  father's  friends  used  to 
read  through  the  first  ten  cantos  of  *  The  Messias '  once  in  every  year, 
in  the  week  preceding  Easter ;  but  the  wonder  is  lessened  when 
it  is  known  that  he  read  hardly  any  other  author,  and  could 
therefore  concentrate  his  attention  and  patience  in  that  week. 
Moreover,  these  ten  cantos  are  the  best  haJf  of  the  epic. 

In  1792  Klopstock  married  a  widow  lady,  who  had  long  been 
numbered  among  his  best  friends.  His  later  years  were  passed  in 
comfortable  retirement  at  Hamburg  where  he  died  in  1803.  He 
was  buried,  with  an  imposing  ceremonial,  under  a  fine  linden  tree, 
and  close  to  the  remains  of  his  first  wife—'  Meta ' — in  the  village 
chilrchyard  of  Ottensen,  near  Altona.  No  German  poet  had  ever 
before  received  such  funeral  honours.  All  the  bells  of  Hamburg 
and  Altona  were  tolling,  and  126  carriages  followed  the  hearse. 
A  second  Shakspere  would  hardly  now  receive  like  honours. 

His  piety  and  virtue,  as  well  as  his  genius  and  heart-felt 
enthusiasm,  conspired  with  the  circumstances  of  his  times  to  cast 
a  halo  round  the  name  of  Klopstock.  He  was  like  a  star,  bright 
in  itself,  and  having  the  advantage  of  rising  in  the  darkest  hour 
before  daybreak.  True ;  German  poetry  had  already  greatly  im- 
proved in  style,  but  it  wanted  significance,  and  Klopstock  came  to 
make  it  at  once  national  and  Christian,  as  well  as  to  give  more 
variety  to  its  forms.  From  his  youth  he.  had  felt  confidence  in 
his  own  genius ;  hence  his  bold  choice  of  so  high  a  theme  as 
'  The-  Messias.'  His  ambition  seems  to  have  had  an  elevating 
effect  on  his  own  character,  for  he  generally  maintained  a  dignity 
becoming  the  author  ol  an  epic  on  the  greatest  of  all  possible 
themes ;  yet  he  was  neither  a  severe  pedant  nor  an  ascetic  His 
work  was  the  result  of  true  enthusiasm  ,  its  prevailing  spirit  was 
religious,  and  had  a  deep  effect  on  the  character  of  German 
literature.  In  his  employn^ent  of  hexameter  verse  Klopstock 
developed  the  resources  of  the  German  language,  especially  with 
regard  to  its  middle  quantities  and  its  secondary  accents,  and  he 
must  be  named  ^th  Hamler  as  having  introduced  a  new  style  for 


XV.]  KLOPSTOCK.  197 

translations  and  imitations  of  Greek  and  Koman  poets.  But  the 
genius  of  Klopstock  was  lyrical  and  not  epic.  Neither  the  men 
nor  the  angels  whom  he  introduces  in  the  ^  Messias/  have  any 
true  individuality,  and,  to  supply  their  want  of  action,  they  talk, 
argue  and  indulge  in  long  monologues,  yet  without  telling  any- 
thing of  their  own  characters.  Some  of  the  best  parts  of  the  poem — 
or  rather  the  series  of  poems — are  found  in  descriptions  and  similes, 
but  these,  too  often,  have  a  life  of  their  own,  and  are  not  duly 
suboixiinated  to  the  general  narration.  For  example,  it  is  said 
that  Satan,  when  he  comes  to  tempt  Judas,  approaches  like  a  pes* 

tilence : — 

So  at  the  midnight  honr  a  fatal  plagae 

Comes  down  on  cities  lying  all  asleep ; 

Their  people  are  at  rest ;  thoogh,  here  and  theie^ 

A  student  reads  beside  his  burning  lamp 

And,  here  and  there,  where  ruddy  wine  is  glowing, 

Good  fHends  are  waking ;  some  in  shadowy  boworsi 

Talk  of  their  hopes  of  an  immortal  life— 

None  dreaming  of  a  coming  day  of  grief 

When  brides,  too  soon  made  widows,  will  be  wuling 

And  mothers  weeping  over  orphan  babei^— 

Here  the  simile  is  so  far  extended  that  both  Judas  and  Satan 
are  forgotten.  In  many  passages  that  might  be  selected  from  the 
earlier  cantos,  descriptive  sketches,  aud  similes  occur,  remarkable 
for  power  and  originality  of  conception.  Judas  is  tempted  by 
a  spirit  who,  appearing  to  him  in  a  dream,  presents  to  him  a 
vision  of  some  fair  earthly  domains  to  be  divided  among  the  chief 
followers  of  the  '  Messias.'  Then  the  portion  of  land  allotted  to 
the  traitor  is  described  as — 

A  narrow  desolate  tract  of  hills  and  crags. 
Wild  and  unpeopled,  overgrown  with  briars ; 
Night,  veiled  in  chilly  ever-weeping  clouds, 
Hangs  o  er  the  land,  and  in  its  barren  clefts     • 
The  drifted  snows  of  winter  linger  long ; 
There  birds  of  night,  condemned  for  aye  to  share 
That  solitude  with  thee,  flit  through  the  gloom 
And  wail  among  the  trees  by  thunders  riven. 
That  desert,  Judas,  is  to  be  thine  own  I 

When  the  traitor  has  conceived  his  plan,  and  has  resolved 
to  execute  it,  the  triumph  of  his  tempter  is  thus  described  :^» 

With  a  silent  pride^ 
Satan  looked  down  upon  him.    O'er  the  flood 


198  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEBATTTBE.  [Gb.. 

So  towers  some  dreadM  cliff,  and  from  the  eloada, 
Looks  down  upon  the  waves,  all  strewn  with  wrecks 
And  corpses. 

But  if  isolated  passages  of  interesting  Darrative  or  impassioiied 
conversation  -were  far  more  numerous  than  they  are^  they  could  not 
make  the  ^Mesaias/ — viewed  in  its  completeness  as  an  epic  poem 
— worthy  of  its  theme.  Klopstock  failed  where  every  poet  must 
fail.  Poetic  genius  is  one  of  the  highest  powers  of  the  mind ;  but 
it  is  not  the  highest  No  imagination^  however  exalted  and 
powerful^  can  do  justice  to  such  a  theme  as  was  chosen  by  Klop- 
stock. For  poetical  uses  better  materials  may  be  found  in  histo- 
ries of  comparatively  trivial  purport  When  viewed  historically 
and  externally,  the  evangelical  narrative  is  a  story  of  rather  more 
than  a  year  spent  in  travelling  and  preaching  on  the  shores  of  the 
Sea  of  Galilee.  Then  follow  persecutions  directed  by  the  doctors 
of  the  Church ;  the  people  at  one  time  hail,  at  another  forsake 
their  Messias ;  he  is  falsely  accused  of  insurrection,  is  delivered  ■ 
into  the  power  of  the  Romans,  and  is  put  to  death.  A  poet  must 
be  very  presumptuous,  if  he  changes  any  of  these  facts,  and  what 
can  he  add  to  them  that  will  not  seem  out  of  place  P  The  external 
facts  are  too  scanty  for  a  poet's  use ;  but  the  thought  expressed  in 
them  transcends  all  powers  of  imagination.  Profound  humilia- 
tion, united  with  a  calm  assertion  of  boundless  authority  and 
power ;  predictions  that  might  seem  to  have  been  suggested  by  a 
dream  fulfilling  themselves  in  the  world;  then  kingdoms,  religions, 
philosophies,  fading  away,  and  the  events  of  nineteen  centuries 
servini?  to  fulfil  such  prophecies ;— here  are  wonders  that  can  never 
be  made  more  marvellous  or  more  interesting  by  any  array  of 
mythological  imagery.    They  transcend  the  resources  of  poetry. 

Klopstock's  genius  was  lyrical,  and  his  best  poems  are  found  in 
his  odes  and  hymns;  epecially  in  those  written  in  his  earlier 
years,  or  before  he  allowed  his  study  of  antique  metres  to  lead  him 
too  far  in  the  use  of  inversions  of  the  common  order  of  words  and 
sentences.  In  several  of  his  later  odes,  written  in  Sapphic,  Alcaic^ 
and  other  ancient  classic  metres,  his  style  is  involved  and  obscure. 
The  best  odes  defy  translation ;  for  their  poetical  value  depends, 
in  a  great  measure,  on  their  form.  The  elegies  and  several  of  the 
odes  addressed  to  friends  are  too  sentimental ;  but  this  was  the 
prevailing  fault  of  many  writers  of  the  poet's  time.  They  tell  us 
far  too  much  of  t]ieir  sighfl  and  of  their  ^  weeping  eyes,'  which 


XVJ  KLOPSTOOK,  199 

seem  to  Haye  been  leady  for  1106  on  all  occasions^  however  inmgni- 
ficant. 

Klopstock's  dramas  deserve  notice  chiefly  on  aoconnt  of  his 
good  intentions.  He  wished  to  introduce  a  national  German 
drama,  to  take  the  place  of  imitations^  and^  as  he  would  not  accept 
Friedrich  II.  for  a  hero,  he  went  back  into  the  cloudy  times  of 
remote  German  antiquity,  selected  Hermann  as  a  hero,  and  en- 
deayoured  to  make  the  old  Northern  serve  instead  of  Greek 
mythology.  Confusing  the  fictions  of  Macpherson's  '  Ossian '  with 
the  statements  of  Tacitus,  Klopstock  began  to  talk  about  an  im- 
cient  guild  of/  bards '  who  never  existed,  and  this  fancy  gave  rise 
to  several  odd  rhapsodies  written  by  the  modem  bards;  Kajil 
FmsBBicH  Ebbtschuann  (1738-1809),  and  Johann  Michael 
Denis  (1729-1800).  The  former,  who  styled  himself '  The  bard 
Bhingulph,'  wrote  a  ridiculous  treatise  on  'The  Poetry  of  the 
Bards.'  He  seems  to  have  been  well  acquainted  with  them ;  but 
where  he  found  facts  to  support  his  bold  assertions  remains 
still  a  profound  secret.  His  friend  Dsiris,  a  Jesuit,  but  a  zealous 
admirer  of  Klopstock,  was  a  patriotic  man  as  well  as  *  a  bard,'  and 
rendered  valuable  services  to  the  culture  of  national  literature  m 
Austria.  He  was  a  libraiian  9^  Vienna,  and  was  allowed  to  retain 
his  place  after  the  suppression  of  his  order.  When  his  friends  ex- 
pressed their  surprise  that  a  Jesuit  could  be  the  friend  of  the  Pro- 
testant Klopstock,  Denis  replied  to  the  effect^  that  he  could  see 
nothing  remarkable  in  the  fact. 

These  '  bards,'  as  they  called  themselves,  were  not  the  true 
followers  of  Klopstock.  To  estimate  the  influence  of  his  life  and 
his  writings,  we  must  study  the  literature  of  times  later  than  his 
own.  His  epic  ceased  to  be  read ;  but  his  patriotic  feelings  and 
his  Christian  sentiments  remained  operative.  The  poet's  own  life 
agreed  well  with  his*  belief,  that  the  practice  ot  a  literary  man 
should  harmonise  with  his  teaching.  He  endeavoured  to  abolish 
the  notion  of  treating  poetry  as  a  plaything.  Though  his  attempt^ 
to  introduce  an  old  national  hero  and  the  old  German  mythology 
failed,  they  afforded  proofs  of  his  independence  and  his  patriotism. 
No  man  ever  loved  his  own  native  language  more  than  did  Klop- 
stock. He  seems  almost  too  proud  of  it  when  he  says : — ^let  no 
living  tongue  venture  to  enter  the  lists  with  the  German  I  As  it 
was  in  the  oldest  times,  when  Tacitus  wrote  of  us,  so  it  still 
remains — solitary,  unmixed,  and  incomparable  t '    When  the  poet^ 


200  OUTLINES  OF  GEBHAK  UTERATURK  [Oh. 

in  one  of  his  odes,  boldly  censured  t'riedrich  II.  for  bis  neglect  of 
German  poetry,  tbe  king  might  bave  replied,  that  a  national 
existence  must  precede  a  national  literature.  Klopstock  could 
bave  no  adequate  notion  of  tbe  studies  that  occupied  the  attention 
of  the  king.  With  France  and  Austria  plotting  against  him,  he 
might  well  be  excused  if  be  did  not  rend  German  poetry.  Klop- 
8tock*s  indignation  was  more  justly  directed  against  'the  idle 
luxurious  princes,'  whom  be  describes  as  *  obscure  in  their  own 
day  and,  afterwards,  still  more  obscure.'  Tbe  poet's  love  of 
freedom  led  him  to  bail  tbe  American  War  of  Independence  and 
the  early  proclamations  of  tbe  French  Revolution..  'Forgive  me, 
O  ye  Franks,'  be  says,  in  one  of  bis  odes, '  if  I  ever  cautioned  my 
countrymen  against  following  your  example ;  for  now  I  am  urging 
them  to  imitate  you.'  He  was  about  sixty  years  old  when  be 
wrote  in  this  vein,  but  be  lived  long  enough  to  find  bis  hopes  dis- 
appointed, and  seems  to  bave  been  deeply  grieved.  The  verses  in 
which  be  gives  expressions  to  bis  feelings  on  the  failure  of  bis 
hopes  of  liberty  are  earnest  but  rather  prosaic. 

Among  tbe  odes  devoted  to  friendship  and  love,  there  may  be 
found,  besides  a  few  weak  and  sentimental  specimens  already 
referred  to,  several  of  a  higher  character ;  but  their  merits  are  so 
far  formal  as  to  defy  translation.  Tbe  following  attempt  to  trans- 
late one  of  the  shorter  of  the  odes — 'Early  Graves' — written  in 
antique  metres  and  without  rhyme,  can  give  only  tbe  sentiment  of 
tbe  original  stanzas : — 

"Welcome,  0  moon,  with  silver  light, 

Fair,  still  companion  of  the  night ! 
O,  fkiend  of  lonely  meditation,  stay  I 
While  doads  drift  o'er  thy  face,  and  pasa  away. 

Still  fairer  than  this  summer  night 

Is  young  May  moming,  glad  ajid  brig^t^ 

When  sparkling  dew-drops  from  his  tresses  flow. 

And  all  the  eastern  hills  like  roses  glow. 
. 

O  Friends,  whose  tombs,  with  moss  o'ergrown. 

Remind  me,  I  am  left  alone, 
How  sweet  for  me — ere  you  were  called  away — 
Were  shades  of  night  and  gleams  of  breaking  day  I 

Among  tbe  best  of  Klopstock's  odes,  with  regard  to  their 

antique   metres^  one   in   Alcaic  stropbesi  beginning  with  the 

line:— 

Der,  wdcher  nie  fteundschaflUche  Bande  bracht 


XV.]  LESSINa.  201 

imd  ftnother^  in  Asclepiadean  verse,  beginning  thus, 

SchOn  ist.  Matter  Natnr,  deioer  Erfindong  Pracht, 

may  be  noticed  as  exAmples  of  the  poet's  more  studious  versifica- 
tion. Such  odes  may,  without  difficulty,  be  put  into  Latin ;  foi 
the  sentiments  they  express,  as  well  as  their  metres,  have  an 
antique  dignity.  In  some  of  his  later  odes  the  poet  employs  con- 
structions of  words  and  sentences  so  intricate  that  they  may  afford 
practice  for  advanced  students  of  logical  analysis,  and  may  suit 
the  purpose  of  examiners  who  wish  to  puzzle  competitors  in  trans- 
lations from  German  verse. 

^  Elopstock,'  says  Ilegel;  '  was  greftt  in  his  thoughts  of  nation- 
ality, freedom,  love,  friendship  and  religion.  His  genius  was,  in 
some  respects,  limited  by  the  circumstauces  of  his  times ;  but,  as 
an  earnest,  independent  and  manly  character,  he  remained  without 
a  rival  until  the  time  when  Schilleb  appeared.'  This  was  said 
at  the  conclusion  of  a  lecture  on  lyrical  poetry,  and  it  is  evident 
that  the  great  critic  confined  his  attention  to  writers  in  that  de- 
partment of  literature.  If  he  had  been  speaking  of  the  whole  of 
the  German  literature  of  the  eighteenth  century,  he  must  have 
thought  of  another  earnest,  mauly,  and  independent  character — 
Lessing. 

GoTTHOLD  EpnBAiu  Lessing,  the  son  of  a  Lutheran  pastor 
residing  at  Kamenz  in  Oberlausitz,  was  bom  there,  on  January 
22,  1720.  Ills  studies,  commenced  at  the  classical  school  at 
Meissen  (1741),  were  continued  at  Leipzig  (1746),  and  at  Berlin 
in  1748.  During  these  seven  years,  his  reading  was  very  exten- 
sive ;  but  he  found  leisure  for  recreation,  and  indulged  his  tast^ 
for  the  theatre.  In  1753-60  he  resided  mostly  in  Leipzig  and  in 
Berlin,  where  in  1760,  he  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Academy. 
Soon  afterwards,  he  gained  an  appointment  as  secretary  to  the 
Governor  of  Silesia,  and  went  to  reside  at  Breslau.  His  life  there 
was  so  little  like  that  of  a  book-worm  that  some  plausibility  was 
given  to  a  false  report  that  he  had  almost  forsaken  his  studies  and 
liad  turned  gambler.  But  during  the  five  years  passed  at  Breslau, 
he  produced  bis  play  of  Minrui  von  Bartthelnif  and  prepared  the 
materials  for  other  works.  In  1767  he  went  to  Hamburg,  to  assist  in 
an  endeavour  to  establish  a  national  drama,  and  there  wrote  his 
Dramaturgies  at  first  published  in  the  form  of  a  theatrical  journal. 
His  project  of  a  reformation  of  the  theatre  failed,  and  he  was  glad 


202  OUTLINES  OF  OEKMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

to  leave  Hamburg^  when  he  leceiyed  an  appointment  as  librarian 
at  Wolfenbiittel.  The  resources  of  the  great  library  there  gave 
full  scope  to  his  powers  of  research)  and  one  of  the  earlier  results 
was  the  publication  of  a  supposed  lost  treatise  on  the  Eucharist 
by  Berengor  of  Tours.  In  1776  Lessing  married  an  amiable 
widow,  with  whom  he  had  become  acquainted  at  Hamburg.  Her 
death  in  1778  was  one  of  the  greatest  sorrows  of  his  life.  His 
publication  of  some  fragments  written  by  Reimarus,  a  Rationalist 
divine,  brought  Lessing  into  the  arena  of  a  theological  controversy 
by  which  his  later  years  were  embittered.  To  assert  his  own  doc- 
trine of  toleration  he  wrote  his  drama  of  '  Nathan '  (published  in 
1779),  and  his  essay  <0n  the  Education  of  Mankind'  (1780), 
which  still  remains  the  clearest  manifesto  ever  written  in  favour 
6f  the  principles  of  a  free  theology.  His  latest  studies,  and 
especially  his  polemical  contests  had  an  unfavourable  effect  on  his 
health.  His  cheerfulness  and -sociality  declined,  and,  aifter  several 
severe  attacks  of  illness,  he  died  on  February  15, 1781.  A  statue 
of  the  great  critic  was  placed  near  the  library  at  Wolfenbiittel  in 
1706,  and  another,  of  colossal  size,  was  erected  at  Brunswick  in 
1853 ;  but  Lessing*s  true  monument  is  seen  in  the  best  German 
Literature  of  the  nineteenth  century.  It  may  be  safely  said,  that 
the  works  of  other  great  men  belong  partly  to  him.  His  own  col- 
lected writings  were  first  published  at  Berlin  in  1771-04,  and  a 
better  edition  appeared  in  1838-40. 

Lessing's  personal  character,  which  was  made  the  object  of 
ungenerous  censures  during  his  life  and  after  his  decease,  is  shown 
clearly  enough  in  his  works  and  in  his  letters.  In  the  latter  are 
found  evidences  that  he  was  a  good  brother,  a  kind  husband  and 
a  faithful  friend.  As  a  literary  reformer,  he  stood  alone  in  his 
times,  and  lived  in  the  world  of  his  own  thoughts,  remote  from 
the  nan*ow  interests  of  the  book-worms  and  the  abstract  and 
specialist  professora  of  his  day.  That  he  was,  sometimes,  too 
severe  in  his  polemical  writings,  may  be  freely  admitted ;  but  he 
was  a  disinterested  inquirer  for  truth,  and  his  criticism  was  mostly 
directed  against  errors  and  not  against  persons. 

Lessing's  best  works  may  be  classified  as  dramatic,  critical  and 
didactic  The  first  of  his  more  important  dramas,  'Miss  Sara 
Sampson'  (1755),  is  chiefly  noticeable  for  the  introduction  of 
scenes  from  real  life  in  the  middle  classes.  Minna  von  Bam^ 
Jidm  (1763),  was  the  first  truly  national  drama  that  appeared  on 


X7.]  LESSIKa'S  DBAHAB.  203 

tlie  Genxian  stage.  Its  background  is  supplied  by  the  events  of 
the  Seyen  Fears'  War^  and  its  purport  is  generous  and  conciliatory. 
Of  a  narrow  provincial  patriotism  Lessing  would  know  nothing ; 
bis  tone  throughout  the  drama  is  iriendly  towards  both  Saxons 
and  Prussians.  Tellheim,  the  hero,  is  a  Prussian  officer  who  is 
engaged  in  levying  war  contributions  in  a  poor  district  of  Saxony, 
and  who  pities  and  spares  the  people,  for  whom  he  pays  money 
out  of  his  own  resources.  After  the  conclusion  of  peace^  he  Js  ac- 
(ftised  of  dishonest  dealings  with  the  enemy,  is  prosecuted  and  falls 
into  poverty  and  military  disgrace.  His  conduct  has,  however, 
won  more  than  the  admiration  of  Minna,  a  Saxon  lady,  to  whom 
he  has  been  betrothed  during  the  war.  She  now  comes  forward 
to  aid  him ;  but  he  will  not  allow  her  to  share  in  his  disgrace  and 
poverty.  Minna  endeavours  to  change  his  resolution,  at  first  by 
reasonings,  but,  afterwards,  by  the  stratagem  of  pretending  to  be  in 
needy  drcumstanoes  and  in  want  of  a  defender.  It  is  hardly  necessary 
to  add,  that  her  plot  has  a  successful  conclusion.  The  exposition  of 
the  drama  is  clear,  and  its  action— thougb  too  much  retarded  in 
the  tbird  act — ^moves  on  well  in  other  parts;  while  several .mipor 
incidents  are  skilfully  made  useful  in  leading  to  the  result.  It 
must  be  regretted  that  the  author  did  not  write  more  dramas  of 
this  class.  His  next  important  work  1b  of  another  type.  He  had 
planned,  before  1760,  a  tragedy  on  the  old  Roman  story  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  thiB  work,  modernised  and  otherwise  changed,  so  as  to 
serve  a  concealed  purpose,  appeared  as  the  tragedy  of  ^  Emilia 
Qalotti/  in  1772.  Its  scenes  are  laid  in  Italy ;  but  the  purport  is 
an  exposure  of  the  vices  and  the  tyranny  of  a  corrupted  aristocracy, 
wherever  found.  The  style  is  laconic,  realistic,  and  often  made 
very  powerful  by  condensation.  Nothing  can  be  more  painful 
than  the  conclusion ;  but  the  exposition  and  the  development  of 
the  crisis  make  the  catastrophe  inevitable.  The  innocent  victim 
is  first  made  to  appear  guilty  of  a  crime  of  which  she  never 
dreamed ;  she  is  deprived  of  liberty,  and  is  artfully  surrounded  by 
deadly  intrigues  planned  by  a  creature — ^Marinelli — for  the  licen- 
tious Prince  who  employs  him.  At  this  moment,  Odoardo,  the 
father  of  the  heroine,  gains  a  brief  interview  with  his  daughter, 
Emilia,  for  whom  there  is  now  only  one  way  of  escape : — 

Odoardo.  The  thoaght  that  under  a  show  .of  law  and  justice — 0  the 
infernal  mocker}*  I— theywill  tear  you  from  my  bosom — carry  you  away 
to  the  house  of  Grimaldi  t 


201  •   OUTLINES  OP  GEKMAN  LITERATURE.     fCM. 

EmUia,  They  will  tear  me  away,  yon  say — ^to  carry  m^  thither  ?  They 
will,  vou  say,  as  if,  father,  tre  had  no  will  I 

Odoardo,  It  made  me  mad ;  I  seized  this  (Ae  »how9  a  dagger)  to  piense  one 
of  the  two !  .  .  . 
Emilia.  Give  the  steel  to  me  father. 

Odoardo.  Child,  this  is  no  hair-pin  to  play  with 

Emilia.  Give  it  to  me  father.    Now  give  it  me  I 
Odoardo.  There  I — I  give  it — there  I 

iShe  U  about  to  Hab  her$el/t  when  he  tnat^et 

awaif  the  dagger,  .  .  . 
She  pluekt  a  rote  from  her  head-dreit  a§d 
tears  it  to  pieee*,  while  she  tpeaJu  in  a  bU- 
ter  tone.} 

Emilia,  In  the  old  times,  there  lived  a  father  who,  to  save  his  child,  buried 
the  steel  in  her  bosom,  and  so  gave  her  liftB  a  second  time.    It  is  an  old  story  1 . 
Such  fathers  once  lived ;  but  there  are  none  like  them  now  !         * 

Odoardo,  Tea,  yes,  there  is,  at  least,  one—  {he  ttabe  Emilia)— GiA  I  what 
have  I  done  ?  {ShefalU  into  his  arms.) 

EmUia.  Broken  off  the  rose  before  it  waa  blighted.  Let  me  kiss  that 
father's  hand. 

[The  Prince  and  MarineUi  titter  the  room."] 

Prince,  What  is  here  t    Emilia — ^what  has  hart  her  ? 

Odoardo.  She  is  well— quite  well. 

Prince,  {stepping  nearer  to  Odoardo,) 

Terrible  1  what  is  this  I 

Marinem.  Oh  I 

Prince,  Horrible  father  I  what  is  this  youVe  done  ? 

Odoardo.  I've  culled  a  rose  before  the  storm  could  blight  it.  Is  it  not  so 
my  daughter  ? 

Emilia.  Not  you,  father — I  myself— 

Odoardo.  Not  so,  daughter — say  not  that  as  you  leave  this  world.  Twaa 
your  father ! — 'Twas  your  own  miserable  father  I 

{She  diesj  he  gentlf  taps  her  corpse  on  the  Jloor.} 

Now  Prince,  step  hither !  Look  there  !  .  .  .  Tou  expect  that  1  shall  con- 
clude this,  like  a  common  trl^;edy,  by  burying  this  sted  in  my  own  heart. 
You  mistake  me. — ^There  I  {He  Jiings  down  the  weapon.)  There  Ilea  the  red- 
dened witness  of  the  crime.  And  now  to  the  dungeon — and  then  to  my 
trial,  with  you,  Prince,  for  my  judge  !  and  then — ^yonder ! — I  summon  you 
to  appear  before  the  Judge  of  aU  mankind.  .  .  . 

The  attack  on  bad  princes  and  a  corrapt  aristocracy  was  partly 
concealed  in  the  tragedy  of  '  Emilia  GalottL'  The  purport  of 
Leesing's  last  drama,  *  Nathan  the  Wise'  (1779),  was  s6  evident 
and  attracted  so  much  attention  that  it  served  to  cast  into  the 
shade  the  artistic  merits  of  the  plot.  Among  the  leading  charac- 
ters, Saladin,  the  Mussulman,  Nathan  the  Jew,  and  a  Christian 
Templar — all  separated  by  their  creeds — are  bound  together  by 
mutual  good  services.  '  The  interest  of  the  drama  concentrates 
itself  in  the  story  of  <  The  Three  Rings  '^borrowed  from  a  novel 


XV.]  NATHAN.  205 

by  Boccaccio — whicli  is  made  to  serve  aa  a  text  from  whicb  to 
preach  the  duty  of  univeTsal  religious  toleration.  *  Nathan '  was 
the  result  of  Lessing's  own  experience  of  tlieological  controversy, 
and  this  explains  the  fact  that  its  purport  is  too  manifest.  It  may 
be  doubted  whether,  apart  from  such  experience,  his  own  critical 
judgment  would  have  commended  such  a  prevalence  of  the 
didactic  element  as  is  found  in  this  drama.  He  was  so  earnest  in 
his  wishes  for  its  success  that  he  wrote : — '  health  and  happiness 
for  the  place  where  "  Nathan  "  shall,  first,  be  represented  I ' 

Nothing  more  can  be  said  here  of  the  doctrine  Implied  in 
'Nathan; '  bnt  a  quotation  may  show  somethin<ip  of  its  dramatic 
power.  In  the  fifth  scene  of  the  third  act,  Nathan,  a  liberal 
Israelite,  Tamous  for  his  wisdom,  is  summoned  to  appear  before  the 
Sultan,  Saladin,  in  his  palace.  The  Israelite  expects  that  some 
loan  of  money  will  be  demanded,  and  is,  therefore,  surprised,  when 
he  finds  that  the  Sultan  wishes  to  talk  of  the  three  creeds  pro- 
fessed in  Palestine.  '  Of  these  three  only  one  can  be  true/  sajs 
Saladin,  who  now  commands  Nathan  to  state,  in  confidence,  his 
own  sincere  belief.  The  Israelite,  requests  that,  before  he  gives 
a  direct  answer,  he  may  be  allowed  to  recite  a  parable^  and  when 
permission  has  been  given,  he  thus  proceeds : — 


In  the  oldest  times,  and  in  an  eastern  land. 

There  lived  a  man  who  had  a  predous  rhig. 

This  gem — an  opal  of  a  hundred  tints — 

Had  such  a  virtae  as  would  make  the  wearer 

Who  trusted  it,  beloved  by  God  and  man. 

What  wonder,  if  the  man  who  had  this  ring 

Preserved  it  well,  and,  by  his  will,  declared 

It  should  for  ever  in  his  house  remain  ? 

At  last  when  death  came  near,  he  called  the  son 

Whom  he  loved  best,  and  gave  to  him  the  ring, 

With  one  strict  chaige ; — *  My  son,  when  yon  must  die^ 

Let  this  be  given  to  jour  own  darling  child — 

The  son  whom  yon  love  best — without  refi^rd 

To  any  rights  of  birth.* — Twas  thus  the  ring 

Was  always  passed  on  to  the  best-beloved. 

Sultaim  t  you  understand  me  ? — 

Saladin.  Yea.    Goon!— 

Nathan.  A  father,  who,  at  last  possessed  this  ring 
Had  three  dear  sons—all  dutiful  and  true — 
All  three  alike  bcloved.^But,  at  one  time. 
This  son,  and  then  another,  seemed  most 
Most  worthy  of  the  ring ;  and  it  was  given. 
By  promLje,  ilrst  to  Uiis  you,  then  to  that, 


206  OUTLINES  OF  GERSIAN  LITEKATUBE.  [Os.- 

Until  it  migbt  be  cUiimed  by  aH  tbe  tbree. 
At  last,  when  death  drew  nigh,  the  father  felt 
His  heart  distracted  bj  the  doubt  to  whom 
The  ring  was  due.    He  could  not  favour  one 
And  leave  two  sonn  in  grief !    How  did  he  aet  ? 
He  called  a  goldsmith  in,  gave  him  the  gem. 
And  bade  him  make  ezactlj  of  that  form, 
Two  other  rings,  and  spare  nor  cost  nor  pains 
To  make  all  three  alike.    And  this  was  done 
So  well,  the  owner  of  the  first,  true  ring 
Could  find  no  shade  of  difiference  in  the  thieet 
And  now  he  called  his  sons— one  at  a  tim^« 
He  gave  to  each  a  blessing  and  a  ring — 
One  of  the  three — and  died — 

SiUadin,  Well,  well.    Go  on. 

.  Nathan,  My  tale  is  ended.    Yon  may  guess  the  sequel  :-— 
The  father  dies ;  immediately  each  son 
Gomes  forward  with  his  ring,  and  asks  to  be 
Proclaimed  as  head  and  ruler  of  the  house ; 
All  three  assert  one  claim,  and  show  their  rings- 
All  made  alike.    To  find  the  first — the  true — 
It  was  as  great  a  puzzle  as  for  us — 
To  find  the  one  true  faith. 

Saladm.  Is  that,  then,  all  the  answer  I  must  have  ? 
•    Nathan.  'Tis  my  apology,  if  I  decline 
To  act  as  judge,  or  to  select  the  ring — 
The  one,  true  gem,  of  three  all  made  alike ; 
All  given  by  one — 

Saladin,  There  1  talk  no  more  of '  rings.'— 

The  three  religions  that,  at  first,  were  named 
Are  all  distinct — aye,  down  to  dress — ^food — drink — 

Nathan.  Just  so  !  and  yet  their  claims  are  all  alike^ 
As  founded  upon  history,  on  facts 
Believed,  and  handed  down  from  sire  to  son, 
Uniting  them  in  faith.    Can  we— the  Jews- 
Distrust  the  testimony  of  our  race  ? 
Distrust  the  men  who  gave  us  birth,  whose  love 
Did  ne'er  deceive  us ;  but,  when  we  were  babea^ 
Taught  ua,  by  means  of  fables,  for  our  good? 
Must  you  distrust  your  own  trwe  ancestors. 
To  flatter  mine  ?-H)r  must  a  Christian  doubt 
His  father's  words,  and  so  agree  with  ours  ? — 

Saladm,  Allah ! — the  Israelite  is  speaking  truth, 
And  I  am  silenced— 

Naihan,  Let  me  name  the  rings 

Once  more  t— The  sons  at  la<tt,  in  bitter  strife, 
Appeared  before  a  judge,  and  each  declared 
He  had  the  one  true  gem,  given  by  his  father ; 
All  said  the  same,  and  all  three  spoke  the  trutiii 
Each,  rather  than  suspect  his  father's  word. 
Accused  his  brethren  of  a  fraud — 


XV.]      "  NATHAK.  207 

Saladin,  What  then  ?^ 

What  sentence  conld  the  judge  prononnce  ? — Go  on. 

NcUhan,  Thus  said  the  judge ;— 'go,  bring  your  father  here; 
Let  him  come  forth !  or  I  dismiss  the  case. 
Must  I  dt  guessing  riddles ! — must  I  wait 
Till  the  true  ring  shall  speak  out  for  itself? — 
Bnt  stay  t — 'twas  said  that  the  authentic  gem 
Had  virtue  that  could  make  its  wearer  loved 
By  God  and  man.    That  shall  decide  the  case. 
Tell  me  who  of  the  three  is  best  beloved 
By  his  two  brethren.    SilentV — Then  the  ring 
liath  lost  iU  charm !— Each  claimant  loves  himself 
But  wins  no  love.    The  rings  arc  forgeries ; 
'TIS  plain,  the  first,  authentic  ^em  was  lost ; 
To  keep  his  word  with  you,  and  hide  his  loss, 
Your  father  had  these  three  rings  made — these  threes 
Instead  of  one —  * 

Salfidin,  Well  spoken,  judge,  at  last  I 

NcOhan,  *  But  stay,*  the  judge  continued ;— *  hear  one  woid— • 
The  best  advice  I  have  to  give ;  then  go. — 
Let  each  still  trust  the  ring  given  by  his  father ! — 
It  might  be,  he  would  show  no  partial  love ; 
He  loved  all  three,  and,  therefore,  would  not  give 
The  ring  to  one  and  grieve  the  other  two. 
Go,  emulate  ;our  father's  equal  love. 
Let  ear'h  first  test  bis  ring  and  show  its  power ; 
But  aid  it,  while  you  test ;  be  merciful. 
Forbearing}  kind  to  all  men,  and  submit 
Your  will  to  God.    Such  virtues  shall  increase 
Whatever  powers  the  ring^i  themselves  may  have ; 
When  these,  among  your  late  posterity, 
Have  shown  their  virtue— in  some  future  time, 
A  thousand  thousand  years  away  from  now— 
Then  hither  come  again  ! — A  wiser  man 
Than  one  now  sitting  here  will  hear  you  then. 
And  will  pronounce  the  sentence — * 

ScUadin,  Allah  tAUahl 

Nathan,  Now,  Saladin,  art  thou  that  *  wiser  man  t 
Art  thou  the  Judge  who  will,  at  last,  pronoonoe 

The  sentence  ? — 

iSaladin  greup*  Jfathan*$  hand,  and  hoUtt 
to  the  end  qf  the  convereationj] 

Saladin,  1  the  judge  ? — I'm  dust  t  I'm  notjiing  I 

rris  Allah  I — Nathan,  now  I  understand ; 
The  thousand  thousand  years  have  not  yet  passed  | 
The  Judge  is  not  yet  come ;  I  must  not  place 
Myself  upon  His  throne  I  I  understand — 
Farewell,  dear  Nathan  I  Go.— Be  still  my  friend. 

.     Lxssnre  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  critics  and  and  polemical 
imtexB.     He  had  the  power  of  placing  himself  fairly  in  the 


208  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

position  of  his  antagonist,  and  could  make  a  true  analysis  of  an 
antithesis  serve  as  a  development,  of  his  own  thesis.  The  style  of 
his  critical  writings  is  not  a  dress  put  upon  his  thoughts,  but  a 
medium  so  transparent,  that  we  never  think  of  it  It  is  dialectic 
and  dramatic ;  thoughts  arise  one  after  another,  in  an  inevitable 
order,  and  converse  together,  or  contend,  until  the  strongest  gains 
the  mastery,  and  asserts  itself  clearly  as  the  victor.  The  opposites 
of  all  the  faults  commonly  found  in  writers  on  metaphysics  and 
(esthetics  are  found  in  Lessing's  prose. 

Of  the  contents  of  his  critical  works  it  is  hard  to  give,  within 
our  limits)  any  fair  summary.  He  began  with  an  exposure  of  the 
errors  of  critics  who  had  confounded  poetry  with  descriptive  and 
didactic  writings,  and  be  assigned  to  such  fables  as  Bodmer  and 
others  had  praised  too  highly  their  proper,  subordinate  place. 
Lessing's  own  fables  are  remarkably  concise,  and  so  clear  that  tbey 
want  no  appendices.  Here,  for  example,  is  one  of  the  shortest, 
which  he  addressed  to  imitative  writers : — 

'  Name  any  animal  so  clever  that  I  cannot  imitate  him/  said  the  ape  to 
the  fox.  '  Tell  me/  said  the  fox, '  wbere  is  there  any  animal  so  contempti* 
ble,  that  he  would  think  of  imitating  you.' 

In  Virgil's  story  of  the  Priest  Laokoon  and  his  sous,  the  father, 
while  he  wrestles  with  the  python,  utters  loud  cries ;  but  in  the 
well-known  work  of  sculpture  representing  the  dreadful  crisis,  the 
central  figure  has  no  distortion  of  the  face.  Leasing,  in  his 
Laokoon^  makes  use  of  these  facts  to  show  the  difference  between 
poetry  on  one  side,  and  sculpture  and  painting  on  the  other.  Epic 
poetry,  he  contends,  must  narrate  events ;  painting  and  sculpture 
represent  co-existent  objects.  In  poetry  the  expression  of  extreme 
pain  may  be  allowed,  for  it  passes  away ;  in  sculpture,  where  it 
would  be  fixed  for  ever,  it  is  out  of  place.  Hence  repose  is  the 
'  essential  characteristic  of  ancient  sculpture,  as  Winckelmann  had 
already  contended.  Painting  may  indicate  action,  when  the  artist, 
though  representing  one  moment  in  a  series  of  events,  suggests  its 
antecedent  and  its  result  So  far  painting  may  resemble  poetry. 
Again,  as  the  poet  speaks  of  bodies  as  well  as  of  actions,  he  may 
touch  on  the  province  of  painting,  when  he  applies  to  objects 
"their  descriptive  epithets;  but  he  must  not  dwell  on  descriptions. 
Jn  other  words,  he  must  not  try  to  do  in  words  and  tones  what  the  ^ 
painter  can  do,  far  more  successfully,  in  outlines,  shades  and 


XV.J  POETEY  AND  PAINTINa.  209 

colours.  The  two  arts  are  sisters ;  but  thay  mast  erer  be  dedrly 
distinguiabed.  *  I  should  have  no  fai  th  in  my  theory/  says  Lessing, 
'if  I  did  not  find  it  confirmed  by  Homer's  practice/  The  critic 
then  analyses  the  epic  style  of  the  Hind,  and  especially  notices 
that  while  events  are  fully  narrated  no  long  descriptions  are  given 
of  the  objects  connected  with  the  story  ....  A  ship,  for  ex- 
ample, is  mentioned  as  '  the  black  ship/  the  '  hollow/  or  '  the 
well-rowed  black  ship.'  Of  the  stationary  object  Homer  says  no 
more ;  but  when  he  speaks  of  an  action,  or  of  a  series  of  actions, 
connected  with  a  ship— such  as  rowing,  embarking,  or  landing- 
he  tells  its  story  so  fully  that,  if  a  paints  would  represent  the 
whole,  he  must  divide  it  into  ^tq  or  six  pictures.  When  the 
poet  would  give  us  a  notion  of  Agamemnon's  dress,  he  makes  the 
king  clothe  himself,  putting  on  one  garment  after  another  and,  at 
last,  grasping  his  sceptre ;  and  how  is  the  sceptre  introduced  P — 
Does  Homer  try  to  paint,  in  words,  its  golden  studs  and  its 
carvings  ?  No ;  he  gives  its  history,  and  tells  us  how  it  first  came 
from  the  forge  of  Vulcan ;  how  it  then  shone  in  the  hand  of  Zeus, 
and  was  handed  down  by  Hermes  to  the  warlike  Pelops,  and  so, 
at  last,  came  into  the  possession  of  Atreus,  the  shepherd  of  his 
people. 

Such  notes  as  the  above,  may  indicate  the  character  of  Lessing's 
theory  of  epic  poetry.  His  contributions  to  the  criticism  of.  the 
drama  are  not  less  valuable.  In  his  Hamburgiscke  Dramaturgie 
(1767-68),  which  was  started  as  a  theatrical  journal  and  review, 
Lesdng  exposes  the  errors  of  theorists  who  had  misconceived 
Aristotle's  doctrine  of  tlie  three  unities.  He  shows  that  the  unities 
of  time  and  place  were  not  alv^ys  observed  by  the  best  Greek 
dramatists,  while  he  establishes  his  own  doctrines  on  the  authority 
of  Aristotle  and  on  examples  taken  from  the  Greek  dramatists,  and 
from  Shakspere  and  Calderon.  He  denounces  imitations  of 
French  models ;  but  by  no  means  speaks  altogether  contemptuously 
of  the  French  theatre.  Its  best  writers  might  have  attained  the 
highest  honours  in  tragedy,  he  says,  if  they  had  not  regarded  them 
as  already  attained.  Of  French  comedy  Leasing  writes  with  a 
full  appreciation  of  its  excellence. 

These  outlines  give  no  adequate  notion  of  the  grasp  of  thought, 
the  wide  research  and  the  extensive  reading  found  in  the  critical 
works  on  which  Lessinpfs  reputation  is  founded.  He  denounced 
the  poetry  of  adjectives  cultivated  by  descriptive  versifiers;  he 

p 


210  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

exposed  the  dogmatic  character  of  Gottsched's  theory ;  the  decla- 
mation issued  as  criticism  by  Bodmer ;  the  sentimentalism  and 
want  of  artistic  form  in  Klopstock's  epic,  and  the  prosing  of  the 
fabulists,  who  wished  to  make  a  pulpit  of  poetry ;  but  in  all  this 
apparently  negative  work,  his  purport  was  neither  satirical  nor 
destructive :  he  was  building  while  he  was  pulling  down,  he  at- 
attracted  the  attention  of  readers  to  the  surpassing  genius  of 
Shakspere  and,  while  denouncing  slavish  imitation,  he  demanded 
a  profound  respect  for  the  great  works  of  antiquity.  In  a  word, 
he.  gave  to  literature  an  inspiring  idea  which  has  been  already 
partly  developed,  and  is  still  going  on  towards  its  full  realisation. 
*  Every  great  work  that  has  been  done  in  the  world,'  says  Hegel, 
'has  been  done  through  the  might  of'an  idea.''  The  labours  of 
Lessing  supply  strong  proofs  of  that  doctrine. 

Soon  after  the  Laokoon  was  published  (1766),  it  was  reviewed 
by  Prof.  Klotz,  a  man  of  extensive  uttainments  in  history,  who 
had  written  a  treatise  on  'The  Uses  of  Antique  Gems.'  Lessing, 
in  his  reply  to  the  reviewer,  attacked — unjustly,  as  erudite 
specialists  have  said — the  reviewer's  bool^  on  antique  gems,  and 
wrote  several  polemical  lectures  addressed  to  Klotz,  which  Were 
afterwards  collected  as  *  Antiquarian  Letters '  (1768-69).  Their 
tone  is,  sometimes,  very  severe ;  but  it  should  be  remembered  that 
Klotz  was  an  abusive  critic.  In  reviewing  a  book,  he  had 
described  the  author  as  a  fraudulent  and  intemperate  wine- 
merchant,  who  bad  run  away  from  his  creditors,  and  had  been 
reduced  to  starvation. 

« 

Shut  out  from  the  discussion  of  politics,  German  professors  in 
Lessing's  day  too  often  expressed  in  their  literary  controversies 
such  angry  feelings  as  now  find  a  vent  in  the  strife  of  factions.  It 
has  been  regretted  that  Lessing  expended  his  energy  on  unworthy 
topics  and  was  not  allowed  to  write  freely  on  political  affairs. 
Some  indications  of  what  he  might  have  done  in  this  way  may  be 
found  in  the  interesting  conversations  which  appeared  under  the 
title,  '  Ernst  and  Falk '  (1778).  Falk  is  a  freemason,  and  pleads 
for  the  formation  of  an  Litemational  Union,  intended  to  supply 
the  defects  of  all  local  forms  of  government  and  to  prevent  war. 
States,  he  argues,  must  have  their  boundaries  and  their  several 
tendencies  to  make  themselves  insular.  Their  relations  with  each 
other  ai*e,  therefore,  constantiy  in  danger  of  assuming  a  hostile 
character.    What  is  wanted,  to  lessen  the  harshness  of  their 


XV.]  LESSINO.  211 

divisions,  is  a  union  of  catholic  men^  whose  sympathies  have  no 
local  bounds^  and  whose  good  will  embraces  the  world.  It  might 
be  thought,  that  religion  should  supply  such  a  bond  of  nations ; 
but  instead  of  religion,  says  Falk,  we  have  religions,  and  it  is  too 
well-known,  that  they  have  made  wider  the  separation  of  one  . 
people  from  another.  Hence  the  want  of  a  free  union  of  men, 
meeting,  not  as  German,  French  and  English,  but  as  men,  and 
united,  not  by  sympathy  alone — ^  as  in  an  invisible  Church  * — but 
also  by  an  organifiation  founded  on  catholic  ideas.  This  argu- 
ment is  very  skilfully  conducted  by  Falk ;  especially  in  the  second 
dialogue  in  which  Ernst  is  unconsciously  led  round  to  assert^ 
at  last,  the  doctrine  which  he  denied  when  the  discussion  was 
commenced. 

The  controversy  in  which  Lessing  was  engaged  during  the 
later  years  of  his  life,  excited  him  to  write  the  series  of  eleven 
letters  entitled  '  Anti-Goetze '  (addressed  to  a  pastor  named  Goetz, 
residing  at  Hamburg),  and  the  philosophical  essay  ^On  the  Edu- 
cation of  Mankind.'  The  claim  of  Lessing  to  the  authorship 
of  this  work  has  been  recently  disputed;  but  no  ground  has 
been  shewn  for  believing  that  any  other  man  of  the  eighteenth 
century  could  have  written  it.  If  it  is  briefly  noticed  here,  it  is 
because,  though  the  style  is  concise,  the  speculatiye  purport  is  far 
too  extensive  to  be  fairly  treated  within  any  narrow  limits.  The 
hundred  paragraphs  of  which  the  essay  consists  contain  thoughts 
that  might  be  beaten  out  into  as  many  volumes.  Indeed,  this 
work  has  been  done  by  the  German  writers  who  represent  the  • 
school  of  free  theology;  but  the' original  essay  may  still  be  viewed 
as  the  best  aad  clearest  manifesto  of  their  school.  All  the  reli- 
gious controversies  of  Germany  appear  to  be  reducing  themselves 
to  one;  between  the  principles  of  toleration  maintained  in  this 
essay  and  the  claims  of  a  personal  infallibility  asserted  by  the 
Jesuits. 

When  viewed  apart  from  its  advocacy  of  religious  toleration, 
Lessing's  brief  treatise  is  still  important;  for  it  contains  the 
germs  of  several  far  more  extensive,  but  not  more  luminous,  works 
on  the  philosophy  of  history.  The  honour  ascribed  to  Herder,  of 
having  first  opened  that  field  of  research  must  be  restored  to 
Lessing.  His  pi'actical  purport  is  to  contend  for  a  toleration 
of  all  differences  of  opinions,  to  recommend  the  exercise  of  patience 
in  the  midst  of  religious  and  other  eiTors,  and,  lastly^  to  assert 

p2 


212  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATTJIIE.  [Ch, 

his  own  trust  in  a  slow  but  sure  progression  of  the  human  race, 
in  both  knowledge  and  Tirtue.  A.  gradual  revelation  of  truth, 
he  argues,  is  the  best  possible  education  for  mankind.  The  pro- 
cess may  be  slow;  but  the  straight  line,  says  Leasing,  is  not 
always  pwtctically  th.e  shortest.  How  do  we  know  all  that  Provi- 
dence has  to  do  with  men  besides  leading  them  onwards  P  How 
do  we  know,  that  seeming  deviations  from  the  direct  line  of  pro-  | 
gress,  and  even  some  retrogressions,  may  not  be  necessary  P  Then 
arises  the  question  ;  for  the  men  whose  lot  it  has  been  to  live  in 
the  darker  times  of  a  progressive  revelation,  what  consolation  can 
there  be  found  in  the  belief  that,  for  others,  the  daylight  will,  at 
last,  appear  P  To  this  Lessing  replies  by  a  bold  suggestion,  that 
men  may  possibly  be  allowed  to  return  to  this  world,  in  order  to 
amend  their  errors  and  to  fulfil  their  best  aspirations.  To  console 
those  who  deplore  the  time  apparently  lost  by  mankind,  in  their 
purauit  of  errors,  Lessing — speaking  as  a  representative  of  the 
human  race — declares  finally,  that  the  time  so  lost  can  be  well 
afforded;  'for,'  says  he,  'is  not  the  whole  of  eternity  still 
ours?' 

In  this,  his  last  work,  Lessing  stands  on  his  own  ground,  and 
must  not  be  vaguely  clirssed  with  the  Rationalists  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  When  he  refers  to  three  of  the  doctrines  of 
orthodoxy  which  have  often  been  described  as  opposed  to  reason, 
he  suggests  that  these  may,  some  day,  be  made  clear.  He  speaks 
with  respect  even  of  the  mystics  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  of 
some  visionaries  who  have  looked  for  a  speedy  Millennium,  he 
has  nothing  more  severe  to  say  than  that  they  had  a  propbetib- 
dream,  and  expected,  too  impatiently,  its  fulfilment. 

Lessing  had  not  entered  the  arena  of  controversy  with  impunity. 
'  *  Candide '  and  other  works  by  Voltaire  hardly  brought  on  their 
writer  such  reprobation  as  fell  on  the  author  of  '  Nathan '  in  the 
last  two  years  of  his  life.  Gossips  went  from  house  to  house 
among  his  friends,  and  warned  them  to  shun  his  errors,  and  after  his 
death,  his  friends  had  to  suffer  for  their  respect  to  his  memory. 
Fbisbbich  HiOKBiOH  Jaoobi,  who  had  a  taste  for  polemical 
excitement,  though  he  wrote  in  a  sentimental  style,  founded  en 
some  words  ascribed  to  Lessing  a  charge  of  '  pantheism.'  Los- 
sing's  friend  Mendelssohn,-  whose  character  suggested  that  of 
'  Nathan,'  was  an  invalid  at  the  time ;  but  he  came  forward  to 
repel  the  charge,  exhausted  his  strength  in  the  controversy,  and 


XV.]  WIELAOT).  213 

sacrificed  his  life  to  his  respect  for  the  memory  of  LESsora. 
Amongp  the  prose-writers  and  moralists  of  his  times,  there  was 
hardly  a  character  more  amiable  than  that  of  Mendelssohn.  The 
gratitude  of  his  Israelite  friends  for  his  efforts  in  their  behalf — 
especially  in  favour  of  a  more  liberal  education — ^was  rather  ex- 
travagantly expressed  when  they  said;  'from  Moses  to  Moses 
there  was  none  like  Moses.'  Three  of  his  sons  were  eminent  men, 
and  one  of  his  grandsons  was  the  accomplished  and  amiable 
musician  Felix  Mendelssohn  Bartholdy. 

Elopstock  was  a  poet,  but  he  knew  little  of  the  rules  of  poetic 
art.  Leasing  was  not  a  poet,  in  the  higher  sense  of  the  name ; 
but  he  was  a  true  and  genial  critic.  If  the  genius  of  Klopstock 
had  been  always  guided  by  Lessing's  judgment,  a  greater  poem 
than  '  The  Messias/  might  have  been  produced  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  Klopstock  and  Leasing  were  literary  reformers.  The 
writer  of  'The  Messias'  kindled  enthusiasm;  the  author  of  the 
Laokoon,  wrote  to  unite  deep  thought  with  artistic  beauty.  These 
men  represented  the  kindred  powers  of  warmth  and  light ;  of  life 
and  order.  Klopstock  suggested  that  poets  should  employ  their 
powers  on  worthy  themes,  and  Lessing  taught  them  how  to 
write.  The  insjaration  of  the  poet  and  the  enlightenment  of  the 
critic  were  derived  from  one  source  and  employed  to  one  end. 
They  were  idea]  men,  and  had  thoughts  that  united  their  labours 
with  the  interests  of  a  future  literature. 

No  such  ideas  inspired  Webland.  The  chief  duty  of  a  literary 
man,  as  he  understood  it,  was  to  amuse  his  readers,  and  to  fulfil  it 
he  must  be,  in  the  first  place,  conciliatory ;  he  must  adapt  both 
his  subject  and  his  style  toT'the  fashion  of  his  times.  The  taste  of 
many  readers  in  the  higher  classes  of  society  was  still  French 
when  Wieland  began  to  write  fictions.  German  literature  had 
been  cultivated,  and  its  style  had  been  improved,  but  its  topics 
must  be  changed,  in  order  that  it  might  be  introduced  to  courts 
and  to  the  higher  circles.  Wieland  saw  the  necessity  of  this 
change,  and  while  he  wrote  with  gracefulness  and  vivacity  in 
verse  and  prose,  he  extended  greatly  the  range  of  topics  found  in 
light  literature.  He  borrowed  his  materials  from  ancient  and 
medisBval  times,  and  from  modem  European  fiction,  and  treated 
them  in  a  style  adapted  to  the  tastes  of  the  upper  classes.  For 
them  the  enthusiasm  and  the  Christian  sentiment  of  Klopstock 
wefe  tiresome,  and  they  complained^  not  without  a  cause,  of  his 


214     OUTLINES  OF  GEHMAN  LITERATURE.     [Ch. 

pompons  and  flometimes  intricate  style.  No  faults  could  be  found 
in  Lessing's  style ;  but  the  great  critic  was  a  close  thinker  and 
-wished  to  make  bis  readers  think.  This  was  in  itself  intolerable, 
and,  moreover;  he  had  the  fault  of  refusing  to  write  on  such  topics 
as  the  aristocracy  cared  for.  A  restoration  of  the  ancient  cha- 
racter of  the  theatre,  as  a  national  institution,  and  a  union  of  old 
and  true  forms  of  art  with  the  growth  of  modem  literature ; — 
these  were  not  subjects  to  attract  the  attention  of  many  among 
the  refined  classes.  Wieland  understood  their  prejudices,  and  he 
wrote  to  suit  them^  He  had  been  educated  partly  under  the 
influence  of  pietism ;  but  he  had  liberated  himself  from  its  re- 
straints, and  had  become  as  free  in  the  treatment  as  in  the  choice 
of  subjects.  This  change  in  both  style  and  purport  took  place, 
apparently,  so  suddenly  that  it  excited  some  surprise  among 
literary  men.  Bevere  critics  even  called  the  new  writer  a  Pari»an 
of  the  time  of  Louis  XV. 

Ohristoph  Martin  Wielawd,  the  son  of  a  Lutheran  pastor, 
was  bom  near  Biberach  in  1783.  During  his  course  of  studies, 
at  a  school  near  Magdeburg  and  at  the  University  of  Tubingen,  he 
read  extensively  in  French  and  English,  as  well  as  in  ancient 
literature,  and  wrote  verses.  His  love  of  poetry  gained  for  him 
an  introduction  to  Bodmer  of  Ziirich,  in  whose  house  he  lived  two 
years,  devoting  his  time  mostly  to  verse-writing  on  serious  themes. 
He  began  one  epic  on  '  Cyrus,'  and  completed  another  on  '  The 
Trial  of  Abraham.'  At  this  time,  he  was,  formally,  Pietistic,  an^ 
wrote,  in  a  work  called  'The  Sentiments  of  a  Christian,'  some 
severe  criticisms  on  light  literature.  But,  after  leaving  Ziirich, 
Wieland  seemed  to  forget  all  the  teachings  of  Bodmer  and  other 
serious  advisers.  The  society  to  which  the  young  poet  gained 
access,  when  he  went  to  live  at  Biberach,  included  several  friends 
whose  tastes  in  literature  were  opposed  to  everything  severe  or 
Pietistic.  Wieland  now  read  French  romances,  became  more  conr 
versant  with  English  literature,  translated  fluently  several  ot 
Shakspere's  plays,  and  began  to  write  fiction  in  a  style  that  was  new 
in  German  literature.  In  his  tale  of  'Don  Sylvio'  (1764),  he 
cast  ridicule  on  professors  of  Pietism,  which  he  now  called  fana- 
ticism. He  still  had  a  didactic  purport ;  but  it  was  no  longer 
serious,  for  he  pleaded  in  favour  of  a  well-regulated  Epicurean 
practice,  founded  on  such  philosophy  as  might  be  stated  In  a  few 
Horatian  stanzas.    He  wrote  playfully  against  severity  tnd  dog- 


XV.]  WIELANFS  "WOEKS.  215 

matism  and,  especially,  exposed  tbe  danger  o(  extremes  in 
opinions  or  in  practice.  In  his  'Aspasia'  lie  suggested  that 
ascetic  piety  might  lead  to  sensuality.  These  yiews  were  ex- 
pressed in  a  style  so  new  and  lively  that  it  was  said,  |  Wieland's 
muse  had  cast  off  her  nun^s  attire  and  had  dressed  herself  as  a 
fashionable  dame.'  •  Lessing  jocosely  said  that  '  she  had  forsaken 
heaven.' 

In  1772  Wieland  went  to  Weimar,  where  he  was  engaged  as 
tutor  to  the  sons  of  the  Duchess.  He  established  there  his 
literary  joiymal,  '  The  German  Mercury/  which  was  soon  regarded 
as  an  authority  and  had  a  long  success  In  his  later  years  Wie- 
land still  wrote  on  industriously,  though  his  popularity  was 
opposed  by  the  poets  of  the  Hainbtmd,  and  by  the  (so-called) 
'  men  of  original  genius.'  The  tendencies  already  indicated  in  his 
poems  '  Musarion '  and '  The  New  Amadis/  weie  continued  in  the 
prose  romances  written  during  his  long  residence  in  and  near 
Weimar.  Here,  surroimded  by  literary  friends  and  placed  in 
easy  circumstances,  he.  maintained  his  literary  activity  to  an  ad- 
vanced age,  and  died  in  1813.  Goethe,  as  a  member  of  the 
Amelia  Lodge,  pronounced  a  masonic  eulogium  on  the  character 
of  Wieland,  who  had  been  generally  respected  for  his  kindly 
temper,  his  tact  and  his  conciliatory  address.  Friedrich  Jacobi 
asserted  that,  of  all  the  literary  men  of  the  time,  *  Wieland  was 
the  only  one  who  was  not  envious  of  Goethe's  superiority.' 
This  statement  could  hardly  be  true  in  its  full  extent ;  but  it  in- 
dicated one  of  the  best  traits  in  Wieland's  personal  character. 
His  literary  industry  was  extraordinary,  and  the  quantity  of  work 
he  performed  made  the  care  in  polishing  his  style  remarkable.  To 
say  nothing  of  his  earlier  works,  he  wrote,  after  1772,  his  best 
poem  '  Oberon,'  his  *  Stories  and  Fairy  Tales,'  the  WvUermdrcha% 
and  the  Sommermarchenf  and  several  other  productions  in  fluent 
verse,  besides  his  prose  romances  'Agathon,'  'The  Abderites,' 
'  Aristippus,'  and  two  others  which,  though  written  when  he  was 
seventy  years  old,  are  good  specimens  of  his  style.  In  1793  and 
later,  he  phblished  his  collected  works  in  forty-two  volumes.  He 
translated  the  epistles  and  satires  of  Horace,  .the  whole  of  the 
works  of  Lucian,  Cicero's  Letters  and  several  of  the  comedies  of 
Aristophanes. 

*  Thoughts  may  be  characterised  by  an  inane  depth  as  well  as 
by  an  inane  expansion,'  says  Hegel.    From  the  first  of  these  de- 


216  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

fecta  Wieland  is  comparatively  free,  for  he  seldom  attempts  to  be 
profound  \  but  he  is  too  often  verbose.  His  purport  is  clear  and 
so  easily  understood,  that  his  prolix  repetitions  of  attempts  to  ex- 
plain his  meaning  are  tedious.  Though  he  is  seldom  severe,  he  is 
didactic,  and  he  too  often  comes  forward  to  interrupt  his  own 
work  as  a  story-teller.  If  he. is  ever  earnest,  it  is  in  warning  his 
readers  of  the  unhappy  tendencies  of  Pietism.  He  hardly  could 
forgive  the  teachers  who  led  him  to  study  in  a  severe  school 
during  his  youth,  and  the  object  of  several  of  his  works  is  to  ex- 
expose  the  errors  of  that  school.  In  his  poems, '  Musarion,' '  the 
Graces '  and  ^  Lamented  Love,'  he  repeats,  again  and  again,  his 
censure  of  ascetic  notions  of  virtue.  In  the  last-named  of  these 
poems,  Cypid  is  expelled  from  heaven,  and  the  Graces  go  with 
him ;  but  the  place  is  found  so  dull  without  them,  that  they  are 
soon  urged  to  return.  ^Musarion'  (1768),  is  less  prolix  than 
some  of  Wieland's  early  works.  Goethe  read  it  with  delight^ 
when  he  was  hardly  twenty  years  old.  It  tells  the  story  of  a 
youth  who,  by  severe  early  discipline,  is  led  to  retire  from 
society,  but  soon  £nds  out  that  he  is  not  well  qualified  for  a 
hermit's  life.  In  '  The  New  Amadis ' — another  work  in  verse — 
the  difficulty  of  finding  wisdom  and  beauty  united  in  one  person 
is  playfully  described,  and  the  hero,  after  a  vain  search  for  such 
perfection,  marries  a  plain  and  intelligent  wife.  This  condusioo, 
however  dull,  is  the  most  edifying  part  of  the  story,  of  which  some 
details  are  treated  with  great  licence. 

The  tendency  of '  Agathon,'ji  romance  in  prose,  is  polemical  as 
well  as  didactic,  and  the  style  is  in  some  parts  tiresomely  verbose. 
The  writer  is  severe,  but  only  against  severity,  and  again  d^ 
nounces  the  stem  doctrines  which  had  been  impressed  on  his 
memory  in  early  life.  These  are  now  represented  by  the  teachings 
of  an  antique  philosophy.  Agathon,  a  Greek  youth,  is  educated  at 
Delphi  and,  afterwards,  lives  at  the  court  of  Dionysius,  where  he 
learns  to  regard  as  impracticable  all  the  moral  theories  of  his  early 
teachers.  The  lessons  conveyed  by  the  story  are  often  given  in  a 
direct  form,  so  as  to  interrupt  the  narrative. 

Wieland's  best  and  most  artistic  work — '  Oberon,'  a  romantic 
poem — ^has  its  scenes  in  the  East  and  in  Fairy  Land.  Three  dis- 
tinct stories  are  well  united  so  as  to  form  a  whole ;  for  each 
depends  on  the  others.  The  adventures  of  the  hero  and  the. 
beroine — ^Huon  and  Bezia — are  sMlfuUy  blended  with  the  story  of 


XV.]  WIELANDS  WORKa  217 

the  quarrel  and  the  reconciliation  of  Oberon  tzid  Titania,  and  th'? 
whole  ploty  though  complicated,  is  made  clear.  Goethe  said ;  'as 
long  as  gold  is  gold,  and  crystal  is  crystal,  Oberon  will  be  admired.' 
On  the  other  side,  severer  critics  have  described  the  poem  as 
merely  fantastic  and  destitute  of  strong  interest  in  its  motives. 
The  author,  it  is  said,  treated  medisBval  and  romantic  legends  and 
fairy  tales  in  a  superficial  and  ironical  manner,  and  gained  his 
popularity  by  assuming  a  light,  mock-heroic  style. 

In  his  antique  romance  'The  Abderites'  (1774),  Wieland 
chose  a  subject  in  harmony  with  his  playful  style.  He  made 
here  no  pretence  of  truly  describing  life  in  ancient  Greece,  but  em- 
ployed an  assumed  antiquity  as  a  mere  yell  for  light  satire  on  the 
petty  interests  and  the  foibles  of  provincial  life.  In  his  account 
of  Abdera  he  made  use,  probably,  of  his  own  recollections  of 
Biberach,  his  native  place.  The  Abderites  ase  people  ironically 
styled  wise ;  they  erect  a  fountain,  with  costly  sculptures,  where 
there  is  no  water,  and  place  a  beautiful  statue  of  Venus,  of  life- 
size,  on  a  pedestal  eighty  feet  high,  <  so  that  it  may  be  well  seen 
by  all  travellers  coming  towards  the  town.'  They  were  not 
solitary  in  this  latter  absurdity.  One  of  the  best  p.irts  of  the 
stoTy  describes  the  theatrical  tastes  of  the  Abderites.  The  read  ^r 
is  introduced  to  their  theatre  when  the  '  Andromeda '  of  Euri- 
pides ii  represented  as  an  opera,  and  with  a  text  reduced  and 
modified  '  to  suit  the  music  and  the  singers.'  The  composer  has 
given  free  tickets  to  all  his  relatives,  who  applaud  every  part  ot 
his  work.  The  tenor,  who  takee  the  part  of  Perseus,  is  cheered 
80  loudly  that  he  loses  the  key,  forgets  the  melody,  and  wins 
mpplause  again  by  substituting  an  aria  from,  the  '  Cyclops.'  The 
eoprauo,  Eukolpis^  represents  Andromeda,  and  when  bound  to  the 
rock  and  exposed  to  the  anger  of  the  Nereids,  repeats  her  sad 
monologue  thrice,  in  order  to  introduce  again  and  again  some 
florid  passages  supposed  to  be  like  the  notes  of  a  nightingale. 
*  Whatever  she  has  to  express — laughter  or  weeping,  grief  or 
anger,  hope  or  fear — the  nightingale's  notes  and  trills  must  always 
be  introduced  and  they  are  always  sure  of  winning  an  encore.' 
But  the  long  account  of  the  great  law-suit  at  Abdera  is  the  most 
amusing  part  of  the  stoxy,  and  is  as  good  as  anything  written  by 
Wieland.  He  tells  us  that,  in  Abdera,  there  was  only  one 
surgeon-dentist.  He  had  an  extensive  practice  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  trayeUed,  in  a  lowly  fashion,  from  place  to  place.    On 


218  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

one  occasion^  he  hired  an  ass  and  its  driver  to  carry  his  small  bag- 
gage across  a  wide  heath.  It  was  a  hot  and  bright  summer's  day; 
there  was  neither  tree  nor  bush  to  cast  a  foot  of  shade  anywhere, 
and  the  weary  surgeon-dentist  was  glad  to  sit  down  and  rest  a 
while  in  the  shadow  cast  from  the  figure  of  the  ass.  Against  this 
appropriation  of  a  shade  the  driver,  who  was  also  the  owner  of  the 
ass,  made  a  protest,  to  the  effect,  that  he  had  sold  the  services  of  the 
ass  and  his  own ;  but  that  nothing  had  been  said  in  the  bargain 
about  any  such  use  of  the  shadow !  The  dentist  must^  therefore, 
either  come  out  of  the  shade,  or  pay  something  extra  for  its  use. 
As  he  refused  to  do  so,  a  law-suit  followed ;  the  best  lawyers  of 
Abdera  were  employed  on  each  side  ;  both  the  claimant  and  the 
defendant  were  strongly  supported  by  theilr  respective  friends,  and 
the  whole  population  of  the  town  was  soon  divided  into  two 
parties,  styled  respectively,  *  Asses  *  and  '  Shadows,'  So  bitter 
was  their  enmity,  that  an  *  Ass '  would  not  sit  down  at  the  same 
table  with  a  'Shadow.'  The  conclusion  may  be  •found  in  the 
twentieth  volume  of  Wieland's  collected  works.  His  account  of 
the  process  occupies  half  the  volume ;  but  prolixity  may  here  be 
excused;  for  the  humour  of  the  report  connsts  partly  in  its  length, 
and  a  satire  on  the  tediousneas '  of  law-suits  can  hardly  be 
exaggerated. 

Wieland's  opinions  on  society  and  government  are  expressed 
most  fully  in  his  'Qolden  Mirror'  (1772).  Its  politics  are  bor- 
rowed from  Bousseau  and  Voltaire,  and  its  form  is  partly  an  imi- 
tation of  one  of  Crebillon's  works.  The  French  Revolution  made 
an  end  of  Wieland's  notions  of  easily  establishing  an  Utopia  on  a 
negative  basis.  All  the  evils  of  society,  he  says,  '  have  arisen 
from  tyranny  and  superstition ; '  but  of  the  origin  of  these  parent 
evils  he  has  little  to  tell.  In  ^  Peregrinus  Proteus,'  he  ridiculed 
fanatics  and  had,  it  is  said,  an  especial  reference  to  Lavater,  whose 
odd  and  difficult  character  he  does  not  fairly  describe.  The  tale 
is  narrated  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  Peregrinus  and 
Lucian,  who  meet  in  Hades.  The  fanatic  tells  the  adventures  of 
his  life,  and  Lucian  listens  with  ironical  interest,  or  adds,  now  and 
then,  a  satirical  commentary.  In  '  Aristippus,'  a  romance  written 
in  the  form  of  letters,  Lais  is  one  of  the  leading  characters  intro- 
duced. The  author  makes  here  some  attempts  to  write  in  an 
antique  tone,  but  gives  us,  once  more,  his  own  worn  and  too 
familiar  doctrines  on  the  art  of  enjoying  life.  He  lepresenta  utility 


XV.]  WIELANDS  CTJTICS.  219 

as  the  test  of  truth,  and  pleasure  as  the  object  to  be  Bought  by 
virtue.  In  morals  he  still  dislikes  soTeritj,  and  he  especially 
censures  dogmatism.  'If  a  man  could  be  found  as  old  as  Nestor/ 
says  Wieland,  *  and  seven  times  as  wise  as  all  the  seven  sages/  he 
would  deliver  his  opinions  with  a  tone  of  caution, '  which  might, 
perhaps,  be  condemned  as  too  much  like  scepticism/ 

Wieland's  writings  have  been  praised  by  the  critics  who  have 
chiefly  regarded  his  fluent  and  easy  style,  while  his  moral  pur- 
port has  been  severely  censured  by  writers  of  another  class. 
There  are  German  authors  who  would  describe  as  obsolete  such 
poems  and  romances  as  'Musarion'  -and  'Agathon/  which,  how- 
ever, have  still  some  historical  interest,  as  they  aflbrd  evidence  of 
the  taste  prevailing  at  the  time  when  they  were  admired.  The 
traits  most  worthy  of  reprobation  in  Wieland's  stories  are  clearly 
enough  indicated  by  a  critic  who,  most  probably,  represents  the 
opinions  of  not  a  few  readers : — '  Wieland/  says  Dr.  Vilmar,  '  was 
the  man  of  his  time,  for  readers  infected  with  the  subtle  and 
sweet  poison  of  the  French  literature  then  current ;  especially  for 
the  higher  classes,  to  whom  thinking  was  tedious  and  enthusiasm 
ridiculous.  To  such  people,  who  had  formerly  been  dependent  on 
the  French,  Wieland  introduced  a  German  literature  well  suited 
to  their  taste,  and  it  is  merely  by  their  interest  in  the  materials  of 
his  works  that  we  now  understand  why  he  received,  during  his  life, 
such  praises  as  were  hardly  bestowed  on  Klopstock  and  never  on 
Lessing.'  This  is  only  the  lighter  part  of  the  critic's  reprobation 
of  Wieland's  moral  tendencies.  A  censure  almost  as  severe  is 
implied  in  few  words  by  another  critic — Prof.  Max  Miiller.  He 
observes  that '  the  severe  judgments  pronounced  by  German  critics 
on  Lohenstein  are  hardly  to  be  reconciled  with  their  praises  still 
bestowed  on  the  writings  of  Wieland.'  It  may  be  added,* that 
some  of  the  works  to  which  these  censures  are  especially  appli- 
cable have  not  been  named  here.  Their  tendency  was  made  too 
evident  in  the  licentious  writings  of  such  men  as  Scheflher  and 
Heinse,  who  greatly  annoyed  Wieland  by  professing  to  be  his 
followers. 

Wieland's  important  contributions  to  the  culture  of  the  German 
language  will  not  be  forgotten.  Goethe  wae  partly  indebted  to 
the  writer  of  *  Oberon,*  and  the  Komantic  School  borrowed  some 
suggestions  from  his  niediseval  fictions.  It  may  be  pleaded,  that 
some  of  his  (^ffsnces  against  good  taste  arose  from  a  rather  vague 


220  OUTLINES  OP  GBBMAN  UTERATURE.  [Ch, 

notion  of  the  extent  to  which  plaTfolneflB  might  be  indulged  in 
fiction.  He  extended  the  culture  of  German  literature  in  the 
southern  states,  and  enlarged,  for  many  readers,  the  boundaries  of 
their  imaginatiye  world.  Though  he  borrowed  his  fables  from 
many  sources,  he  was  not  a  slavish  imitator  of  any  foreign  litera^ 
ture.  The  censure  that  he  misrepresented  life  in  ancient  times — 
especially  in  Greece— is  hardly  called  for,  as  he  never  professed  to 
write  fictions  correct  in  their  aiduBological  details.  He  used 
antique  places  and  names,  as  he  employed  old  tales  of  fairy-lai\d, 
in  order  to  gain  freedom  for  the  exercise  of  imagination  and  for 
the  expression  of  such  light  and  playful  satire  as  is  found  in  his 
story  of  the  wise  people  of  Abdera. 

A  transition  from  the  himiour  and  playfulness  of  Wieland  to  the 
rhapsodies  of  the  times  of  'Sturm  imd  Drang,'  would  seem 
abrupt,  if  it  were  not  noticed  tliat  Wieland  continued  writing  and 
translating  for  some  years  after  he  had  lost  his  popularity.  Like 
other  authors  who  have  lived  eighty  years,  he  found  himself,  in  bis 
old  age,  surrounded  by  young  men  who  had  no  sympathy  with 
him.  The  poets  of  the  Hambund  wished  to  be  patriotic,  and  were 
partly  followers  of  Klopstock,  while  the  wild  'men  of  original 
genius,'  despised  Wieland's  poetry  as  tame,  imitative  and  obsolete. 
He  reciprocated  their  contempt,  and  not  altogether  without 
reason,  as  the  following  chapter  may  perhaps  ahow* 


^ 


XVI.]  GOETHFS  rOOTH.  221 


CHAPTER  XVL 

SEVENTH  PERIOD,    1770-1830. 

THB  ran  OF  OOETHB*S  TOUTH— RELIGION,   POLITICS  AKD  LITBBATUBS 
^'STUBX  UMD  DBAKO' — HAHAMM — JAOOBI — HBBOEB. 

Thb  Sevbnth  Period  of  Germftn  literature  including  sixty 
yean — almost  the  whole  time  of  Goethe's  literary  activity — is  so 
full  of  important  movements  and  interests  that  it  must  be  sub- 
divided. In  this  and  in  the  following  chapter  we  shall  attempt  to 
describe  the  more  important  circumstances  of  the  times  in  which 
Goethe  passed  his  youth.  These  notices  may  serve  to  explain 
not  a  few  of   the  most  remarkable  traits  in  his  imaginative 

'  writings ;  for  they  are  all,  more  or  less,  autobiographical  and  are 
fuUjif  references  to  the  times  of  which  we  have  now  to  tell. 

^^^OHANK  WoLFGAKa  GoBTHE  was  bom  at  Frankfurt  am  Main 
on  August  28,  1749.  His  ancestry  on  the  father's  side  has  been 
clearly  traced  to  Hans  Christian  Goethe^  a  shoeing-emith  who 
lived  at  Artem  in  Thuringia.  Friedrich  George,  the  son  of 
Hans,  was  a  tailor  and  went  to  live  at  Frankfurt.  There  he  soon 
rose  in  the  world  and  especially  improved  his  circumstances  in 
1705,  when  he  married  the  almost  wealthy  limdlady  of  the  hotel 
'  Zum  Weidenhol'  His  son,  Johann  Kaspar,  the  poet's  father,  a 
man  of  respectable  education,  gained  the  titles  of  Rath  and 
Doctor  of  Laws,  but  was  content  to  live  in  easy  circumstances  and 
without  the  cares  of  office.  He  was  a  lover  of  order,  a  man  of 
firm  will,  and  conservative — or  old-fashioned,  as  irreverence  might 
say — in  his  tastes  and  prejudices.  He  would  not  hear  of  Klop- 
stock  as  a  poet,  because  the  '  Messias '  was  not  written  in  rhyme. 
The  boy  Wol%ang  was,  however,  one  of  the  enthusiasts  who  not 
only  read  the  'Mesnas'  but  learned  by  heart  some  of  its  long 


222  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUEE.  [Ck. 

speeches,  and  bis  sister  Cornelia  helped  him  in  getting  up  the 
furious  dialogue  of  'Satan  and  Adramelecb.'  'We  were  de- 
lighted ' — says  the  poet^  in  his  recollections  of  boyhood — '  with 
the  violent  reproaches  and  retorts  which  we  thus  learned  to  burl 
against  each  other,  and  whenever  we  had  an  opportunity  we  ex- 
changed such  compliments  as  ''  monster  "  and  ''  traitor/' '  His 
visits  to  -the  theatre  and  his  intercourse  with  several  French 
officers,  during  the  occupation  of  Frankfurt  in  the  course  of  the 
Seven  Years'  War,  were  circumstances  of  some  importance  in 
GoetheV  early  education.  In  1765,  when  sixteen  years  old,  he 
went  to  Leipzig  to  study  law  at  the  university ;  but  paid  more  at- 
tention to  poetiy  and  light  literature  than  to  law.  He  read  the 
pedantic  critical  treatises  of  Qottsched  and  Bodmer :  and  failing 
to  find  in  them  any  guidance  for  a  genius,  he  followed  the  instinct 
of  his  own  heart.  At  this  early  age  he  began  to  put  into  verse 
bis  own  thoughts  and  feelings  suggested  by  real  circumstances  and, 
long  afterwards,  he  faithfully  adhered  to  his  principle  of  finding  in 
realities  the  motives  of  bis  poems.  '  I  have  never  been  guilty  of 
aifectation  in  my  poetry,'  he  once  said  to  his  friend,  Eckermanu ; — 
'  for  example,  I  have  not  written  songs  of  hatred  against  the 

French,  simply  because  I  did  not  hate  them How  could  I 

bate  the  people  to  whom  I  owed  a  great  part  of  my  education  ? 
But  I  was  thankful  to  God  when  we  were  rid  of  them  I '  At 
another  time  he  described  his  numerous  occasional  poems  aa  all 
forming  parts  of  'one  long  confession.'  'These  remarks  may 
partly  serve  to  explain  the  levity  of  two  dramatic  sketches — Die 
Laune  das  VerUebten  and  Die  Mitsckuldigen — written  by  the  poet 
when  he  was  about  nineteen  years  old.  They  were  the  results  of 
a  youth's  observation  of  society,  and  were  expressed  in  a  style 
suggested  by  readings  in  French  literature. 

The  influence  of  Klopstock  was  still  felt  in  German  literature, 
the  critical  power  of  Leasing  was  respected,  and  Wieland — now 
writing  industriously — ^found  many  readers  in  the  higher  classes  of 
society ;  but  admiration  of  Shakspere's  genius  was,  at  the  com- 
mencement of  this  period,  the  chief  source  of  inspiration  for  am- 
bitious young  poets.  They  wanted  new  and  stirring  themes. 
Leasing  could  tell  them  well  how  to  construct  dramas;  but 
of  what  subject  should  they  write  was  the  question  to  which 
they  wanted  a  reply.  A  general  discontent  with  the  past  and 
a  vague  and  restless  ambition  with  regard  to  the  future,  character- 


XVI.]  RATIONALISM.  223 

ised  the  class  of  young  students  to  which  Goethe  at  this  time 
belonged. 

Beligious^  political  and  social  circumstances  were  all  closely 
connected  with  the  changes  taking  place  in  literature;  espe- 
cially in  poetry.  The  preceding  period  had  been,  on  the  whole, 
a  time  of  reformation ;  this  was  a  time  of  revolution.  A  move- 
ment that  might  be  fairly  called  a  literary  revolution  took  place 
in  Germany  some  years  before  the  time  when  attempts  to  realise 
abstract  principles  destroyed  social  order  and  led  to  a  military 
despotism  in  France.  It  would  be  a  long  task  to  tell  why  revo- 
lutionaiy  axioms  that  had  such  formidable  results  in  France  were 
mostly  confined  to  literature  in  Germany ;  but  that  the  same 
essential  principles  were  prevalent  in  Prussia  and  in  Paris 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century  is  a  fact. 

The  first  of  these  principles  was  a  general  contempt  of  the  past, 
with  its  history,  its  church  authority  and  all  its  moral  and  theo- 
logical definitions.  For  all  their  views  respecting  the  character 
and  the  destiny  of  mankind,  '  the  popular  philosophers  *  and  the 
nationalists  in  Germany — like  the  politicians  in  France— referred 
not  to  history,  but  to  their  own  reasonings.  What  they  thought 
of  the  claims  of  any  historical  and  authoritative  institutions  of 
morals  or  religion  can  hardly  be  stated  clearly ;  for  they 
regarded  all  such  claims  as  hardly  worthy  of  consideration.  They 
did  not  deeply  inquire  how  it  had  ever  come  to  pass  that  men  had 
been  so  long  misguided  by  priestcraft  It  was  enough  to  know 
that  this  had  been  done  in  'the  dark  ages,'  which  included  the 
whole  of  the  past. 

Another  characteristic  of  these  enlightened  men  was  their 
enormous  belief  in  the  moral  power  of  education.  Their  theory 
was  that  men  are  bom  with  minds  like  blank  paper,  and  to  write 
good  axioms  on  this  paper  was  all  that  was  required  to  make  a  new 
world.  Henoe  the  bold  hopes  expressed  in  the  eloquent  books  of 
Kousseau  and  copied  in  the  writings  of  his  humble  German  imi- 
tators, Basedow  and  Pestalozzi.  The  faith  of  the  popular  philo- 
sophers, though  Tery  narrow,  was  as  energetic  as  their  denial  of  all 
assertions  except  their  own.  They  had  not  the  least  doubt  that 
they  were  able  to  demonstrate  to  all  the  world  such  truths  as  the 
existence  of  God  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  they  were, 
consequently,  astounded  when  Kakt  told  them  that  their  argu- 
menta  on  these  points  were  good  for  nothiog.    They  had  never 


224  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

dreamed  that  any  one  would  be  aadacious  enough  to  treat  them 
as  disrespectfully  as  they  had  treated  the  past.  It  did  not  matter 
when  an  obscure  mystic — Hahank — spoke  contemptuously  of 
their  logic;  but  il^was  to  be  wondered  at  when  Hume  and  Kant 
destroyed  all  the  positive  faith  of '  the  enlightened  men.'  How- 
ever, Nicokd;  the  Berlin  bookseller^  was  by  no  means  daunted, 
but  declared  that  Kant  hardly  knew  what  he  was  talking  about. 
Nicolai's  dogmatism  was  characteristic  of  the  school  to  which  he 
belonged,  though  he  was  its  extreme  representative.  His  friends 
could  not  see  that,  if  all  the  world  had  been  in  absolute  error 
before  their  time,  it  was  possible  that  they — even  the  men  of  Ber- 
lin— might  be  in  error;  or  that,  if  they  might  despise  and  over- 
throw everything  they  called  obsolete,  others  might  arise  who, 
with  equal  authority,  would  demolish  such  doctrines  as  seemed 
infallible  at  Berlin  in  1770  and  afterwards. 

This  anti-religious  and  quasi-philosophical  excitement  was 
more  closely  connected  with  the  progress  of  literature,  than,  at 
first  sight,  might  appear  probable.  The  attacks  of  the  men  of  en- 
lightenment, were  mostly  directed  against  so-called  '  mysticism ;  * 
but  under  this  term  of  reproach  they  included  all  expressions  of 
faith  or  feeling,  that  could  not  be  understood  as  easily  as  '  two 
and  two  make  four.'  One  form  of  mysticism  lurked,  it  was  said, 
imder  a  Protestant  disguise;  the  other  had  a  Romanising 
tendency,  and  both  were  suspected  as  means  made  use  of  by  the 
Jesuits.  The  members  of  this  order  were  supposed  to  be  still 
active  everywhere  in  Germany,  although  their  missions  were 
suppressed  there  in  1773.  Most  probably,  more  than  half  the 
machinations  ascribed  to  their  industry  were  purely  imaginary ; 
for  the  Berlin  men  of  light  would  not  believe  that  any  man  could 
be  religious  unless  he  had  been  corrupted  by  Jesuits,  or  Mystics. 
The  school  of  mysticism  included  such  men  as  Hamann,  who 
spoke  like  an  oracle,  Lavater,  the  dreamy  and  credulous  writer  on 
physiognomy,  Jacobi,  the  declamatory  philosopher,  and  the 
brothers  Stolberg,  who  were  third-rate  poets. 

The  methods  employed  to  defend  common  sense  and  rationalism 
were  remarkably  shallow.  It  was  thought  advisable  to  spread 
enlightened  opinions  by  the  use  of  such  secret  means  as  had  been 
ascribed  to  the  Jesuits.  The  order  of  '  The  Illuminati '  was,  at 
first,  openly  instituted  by  Adam  Weishaupt,  a  professor  of  law  at 
Ingolstadt^  but  hjys  followers  were  accused  of  making  use  of  secret 


XVI.]  RELIGION.  225 

diplomacy  in  spreading  their  prindples ;  especially  among  the 
brotherhoods  of  the  freemasons.  Their  doctrine  included  little 
more  than  a  few  abstract  assertions  respecting  the  existence 
of  a  Supreme  Being,  the  adrantages  of  republican  govemment,  and 
the  duties  of  a  cosmopolitan  philanthropy.  A  more  fantastic 
class  of  dreamers — '  the  Rosicrucians ' — also  intnided  themselves 
into  the  masons'  lodges  of  this  time.  These  '  brethren  of  the  rosy 
cross  *  professed  to  be  the  4>liowers  of  a  mythical  sage — Hosen- 
kreutz — who  had  liyed,  they  said,  in  the  fourteenth  century  and 
had  studied  the  occult  sciences  in  India  and  in  the  pyramids  of 
Egypt!  The  facts  concealed  under  this  Action  were  these j — 
Valentin  Andrese,  a  divine  of  the  seventeenth  century,  whom  we 
have  named  among  the  versifiers  of  his  time,  had  sometimes 
amused  himself  by  writing  religious  allegories,  or  rather  sketches 
of  a  Christian  Utopia.  One  of  his  books,  the  '  Fama  Fratemitatis 
B.C.'  (1614),  seems  to  have  suggested  to  *  the  brethren  of  the  rosy 
cross '  their  scheme  of  turning  a  dream  into  a  reality.  Their 
symbol  was  a  Saint  Andrew's  cross,  above  a  rose  encircled  with 
thorns ;  their  tenets  it  is  not  so  easy  to  explain.  Like  others, 
they  were  suspected  of  being  Jesuits  in  disguise,  and  many 
scandals  and  controversies  took  place  in  the  masons'  lodges.  A 
member  of  the  enlightened  order,  when  engaged  in  conversation 
with  one  of '  the  brethren  of  the  rosy  cross '  felt  by  no  means  sure 
that  he  was  not  dealing  with  a  Jesuit,  or  with  some  alchemical 
swindler — perhaps,  with  Cagliostro  himself  1 — ^for  the  masonic 
lodges  were  at  this  time  overrun  by  adventurers,  visionaries, 
'grand  templars,'  Egyptian  necromancers,  and  disciples  of  all 
kinds  of  Schwarmerei.  That  one  word — ^for  which  there  is  no 
English  equivalent — expresses,  at  once,  two  characteristics  of  the 
times ;  a  fanatical  devotion  to  mere  theories  and  a  love  of  making 
new  sects.  One  of  t}ie  more  noticeable  of  the '  illuminati,'-  Adolf 
VON  KiriGGS,  wrote  a  book  worth  reading  on  '  Social  Intercourse,' 
giving  rules  for  making  friends  and  for  keeping  out  of  the  way 
of  enemies  |  but  he  was  unfortunate  in  the  practice  of  his  own 
maxims,  and  often  involved  himself  in  quarrels.  Scandals  and 
disputes  among  other  enlightened  men  led  to  the  suppression  of 
their  order  and  to  a  reformation  of*  the  masons'  lodges.  Various 
reports  of  their  abuses  had  been  carried  to  Home,  and  had  called 
forth  several  papal  allocutions  against  masonry.  These  were 
mostly  founded  on  a  want  of  information  respecting  the  true 

a 


226  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUPwE.  [Ch. 

origin  of  the  abuses  introduced  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
Goethe,  who  was  a  freemason,  always  retained  the  notion  of 
sprending  new  doctrines — especially  on  education  and  general 
culture— bv  nifans  of  brotherhoods  or  secret  and  benevolent 
societies  including  none  but  men  of  high*  character  and  training. 
Such  brotherhoods  are  represented  in  the  two  didactic  romances, 
Wilhelm  Meister's  Lehrjahre  and  WaTidetyahre. 

The  revolutionary  spirit  of  the  tim^  could  hope  for  no  immediate 
success  in  German  politics.  There  were  two  reasons  that  made 
innovation  hopeless.  In  the  first  place,  the  power  of  the  rulers  in 
the  several  states  had  be^n  firmly  established  on  the  division  of  the 
empire.  In  the  second  place,  the  German  liberals  were  too  often 
vague  and  unpractical  theorists.  Liberty  is  the  exercise  of  power, 
and  the  result  must  wholly  depend  on  the  character  of  the  power 
that  is  set  free.  The  main  cause  .of  the  failure  of  hopes  of 
political  liberation  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  that 
they  were  borrowed ;  the  French  Vere  indebted  for  them  to  the 
Americans  and  the  German  Illuroinati  borrowed  all  their  ideas 
from  French  theorists.  Goethe's  dislike  of  hasty  political  changes 
was  founded  on  his  observation  of  public  events  in  the  yeairs 
1770-93.  Of  the  French  Revolution  he  said,  '  I  see  that  some- 
thing difierent  from  the  past  must  be  the  result ;  but  I  cannot  be 
sure  that  the  change  will  be  an  improvement'  Of  imitative  and 
artificial  revolutions  he  said — at  a  later  time — '  nothing  is  good 
for  a  nation  save  what  grows  up  out  of 'its  own  life  and  its  own 
wants  and  this  must  be  quite  distinct  from  any  imitation  of 
foreign  examples.  All  attempts  to  import  foreign  imiovations 
when  there  is  no  felt  want  of  them  in  the  national  life,  are  therefore 
foolish,  and  all  revolutions  concerted  in  that  way  must  be  un- 
successful; for  such  bad  workmanship  as  that  can  never  have 
God's  approbation.' 

Political  dreamers  with  whom  Goethe  was  acquainted  during 
his  youth  had  suggested  these  conclusions.  He  remembered  that 
the  emperor  Joseph  11.  had  written  in  1789  the  words : — *  now 
we  shall  have  universal  peace  in  Europe,'  and  the  failure  of  that 
prophecy  made  a  profound  impression.  But  we  must  refer  to 
some  specimen  of  the  dreamy  patriots  of  thQ  times  in  order  to 
understand  fully  the  poet's  so-called  political  indifference.' 
Among  his  earlier  friends  he  numbered  the  two  brothers  Von 
Stolberg— already  named  as  writers  of  vene — ^with  whom  he  made 


XVI.]  POLITICS.  227 

a  tour  in  Switzerland  in  1776.  Christian,  the  elder  brother,  wrs 
a  weak  imitator  of  the  younger,  Frtbdbtch  Leopold  Graf  von 
Stolbeko  (1750- 1819),  who  deserves  to  be  noticed  because  his 
writings  tlirow  some  light  on  the  characteristics  of  his  times. 
He  -was  the  most  energetic  of  all  the  singers  of  liberty ;  but  his 
enthusiasm  was  as  unreal  as  it  was  violent.  Nothing  could 
exceed  the  extravagant  ravings  of  his  odes  on  freedom  and 
freethinking.  They  were  like  'tales  told  by  an  idiot,*  'full  of 
sound  and  fury/  and  they  signified  nothing.  In  the  song  of  a 
freethinker  be  calls  on  a  tempest  to  come  and  be  his  companion, 
and  next  invites  '  a  whirlpool '  to  his  embraces  t  Then  he  ascends 
into  the  sky  and  beyond  the  orbit  of  Arcturus,  whence  he  look? 
forth  upon  '  torrents  of  annihilation  rushing  down  upon  globes  and 
suns  shivered  to  atoms.'  Finally,  the  poet — ^laughing  with  a 
bitter  scorn — flings  himself  down  from  Arcturus  upon  the  frag- 
ments of  the  universe  and  there  lies  '  covered  with  midnight^  ruins 
and  horror ! '  This  surely  rivals  Bottom's  specimen  of  '  Ercles' 
vein  ',y  but,  incredible  as  it  may  seem,  Von  Stolberg  could  write 
even  worse  nonsense  than  this.  His  climax  is  found  in  a  '  Song 
of  Freedom  *  which  contains  passages  too  absurd  and  extravagant 
to  be  quoted.  The  worst  still  remains  to  be  told ;  for  this  violent 
declamation  about  liberty  and  drinking  'the  blood  of  tyrants' 
was,  after  all,  a  mere  dreamery  and  affectation.  When  divine 
freedom  for  which  Von  Stolberg  had  been  calling,  seemed  likely 
to  come  and  to  take  away  from  him  his  title  and  his  estate,  he 
declined,  at  once,  the  embraces  of  \he  g^ddess^  sought  shelter  in 
the  Romish  Church  and  thence  hurled  forth  an  anathema  on  all 
Jacobins,  Illnminati  and  levellers.  He  had  .never  dreamed  that 
the  men  beyond  the  Rhine  had  some  practical  meaning  in  their 
talk  about  equality^  and  as  soon  as  he  discovered  his  error,  he 
hastened,  with  the  zeal  of  a  convert,  to  make  an  apology  to  the 
t3rrants  whom  he  had  denounced. 

To  return  from  politics  to  literature — ^here  also  revolutionary 
notions  prevailed,  and  were  asserted  as  claims  of  men  possessing 
original  genius  too  powerful  to  be  shackled  by  authority  or 
criticism.  The  original  geniuses  of  the  age — including  Goethe — 
who  were  loud  in  their  declaration  of  independence  and  bold  in 
their  defiance  of  criticism,  had  some  passable  logic  on  their  side. 
If  the  Berlin  men  of  light  might  base  their  teaching  on  a 
tHorough  contempt  for  ail  the  past^  then  surely  inspired  young 


228  OUTLINES  OF  aERMAN  IJTERATURE.  [Ch. 

poets — sach  men  as  Heinse,  Goethe/  Miiller,  Elinger  and  Lenz, 
who  were  then  all  classed  together  as  equals — ^might  be  allowed 
to  invent  even  a  new  kind  of  poetry^  without  paying  respect 
either  to  the  example  of  a  Klopstock  or  the  theory  of  a  Lessing. 
Innovation,  excluded  from  political  life,  had  already  attacked 
morals,  manners,  and  religion,  and  might  now  be  allowed  to 
invade  the  realm  of  imaginative  literature.  So  it  was  decreed, 
that  the  poetry  of  the  past  must  be  cast  aside  as  a  wom«out  sort  of 
manufacture.  'It  was  made,  not  inspired j'  said  Mauvillon  and 
Unzer,  two  of  the  critics  of  the  times,  and  their  judgment  was 
confirmed  by  Merck  and  Schlosser — ^both  friends  of  Goethe.  All 
the  young  men  of  genius  were  agreed,  that  what  was  now  wanted 
was.  a  something  new— >wonderful — ^never  dreamed  of  before  in 
the  world  1  Such  men  as  Lenz,  Miiller  and  Elinger  undertook  to 
supply  the  poetry  wanted  for  the  future,  and  wrote  quite  enough 
of  it.  In  1776  Elinger — who  afterwards  became  rational — ^wrote 
a  wild  play  called  'Sturm  und  Drang,'  and  these  two  words, 
(meaning  Storm  and  Pressure),  were  accepted  as  the  name*  of  the 
period — also  known  as  '  the  time  of  the  original  geniuses.'  One  of 
its  odd  features  was  the  familiarity  with  which  poetasters  spoke  of 
^  their  brother-genius — Shakspere  1 '  If  his  true  ghost  had  ap- 
peared to  tbem — as  Wieland  suggested — ^they  might  possibly  have 
been  frightened  into  modesty.  When  they  said  that  the  poetry  of 
the  old  times,  '  was  made,  and  not  inspired,'  they,  seemed  to  for- 
get that  their  own  was  for  the  most  part  neither  inspired  nor 
made.  In  several  instftices  their  lives  were  as  wild  as  their 
notions  of  genius  and  poetry.  Abstinence  from  reading  and  study 
and  a  disregard  for  the  decencies  of  life  were  proofs  of  original 
genius.  Some  of  the  wildest  of  the  poets  rambled  about,  half- 
dressed,  refused  to  comb  their  hair  and— as  Jean  Paul  said — 
'  thought  it  a  disgrace  to  be  seen  in  a  library.'  They  were,  in  their 
own  estimate,  sound,  healthy  children  of  nature,  and  *  as  free  as 
nature  first  made  man.' 

It  is  difficult  now — in  Germany,  wliere  '  the  stem  realities  of 
life  '  are  talked  of  as  seriously  as  in  England — to  revive,  even  in 
imagination,  the  characteristics  of  that  time  of  *  Sturm  und  Drang,' 
when  writing  wild  poetry  was  regarded  as  the  object  of  life. 
Imaginative  literature,  which  now  supplies  an  occasional  recreation 
for  the  student,  then  formed  the  chief  bond  of  social  intercoui'se 
for  many  young  dreameia  living  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Weimar 


XVI.]  'STUUM  UND  DRANG/  229 

and  Jena.  How  they  were  supported,  while  wasting  their  time 
in  dreams,  we  are  left  to  guess ;  for  of  realities  their  poetrj  tells 
little.  In  what  practical  results  their  reTeries  ended  we  know  too 
well  in  some  cases  of  tragic  failure  of  all  the  promises  of  youth. 
Hardships  and  misfortunes  are  everywhere  ready  to  find  Tictims 
among  men  who  study  the  ideal  before  they  have  fought  with  the 
real,  and  it  has  been  said  of  true  poets,  who,  in  their  youth, '  begin 
with  gladness,'  that '  the  end  tHereof  is  oft  despondency  and  mad- 
ness ; '  but  the  history  of  the  time  of  '  Sturm  und  Drang '  was 
espedally  gloomy. 

Several  instances  of  failure  in  practical  life,  among  young  men 
who  began  their  career  with  literary  ambition,  might  be  ascribed 
to  the  character  of  the  mental  excitement  that  prevailed.  That 
influence  did  not  soon  pass  away,  but  remained  in  the  days  of  the 
Romantic  School.  If  we  named  here  all  the  imaginative  writers 
of  the  period  1770-1820  who  died  in  their  youth,  or  were  especially 
unhappy  in  their  lives ;  those  who  fell  into  deep  melancholy,  and 
those  who  perished  by  suicide;  the  number  would  be  dismally 
large.  The  reflections  suggested  by  this  hist<»rv  of  a  literature 
out  of  harmcmy  with  practical  life,  having  hardly  any  basis  in 
religion,  and  uncontrolled  by  a  patient  study  of  art,  are  too  im- 
portant to  be  dwelt  upon  here.  It  required  a  strong  man,  like 
Qoethe,  to  come  out,  but  slightly  injured,  from  the  excitement  of 
that  time  of  rash  innovation.  As  we  have  said,  he  was  then 
known  only  as  one  wild  young  poet  among  others,  and  such  writers 
as  the  painter  Muller,  Lenz,  Wagner,  and  Klinger  were  his  friends 
or  his  rivals.  A  solitary  tragedy  written  by  Leisewitz,  and  a 
work  by  Wezel — one  of  the  most  miserable  of  the  geniuses — were 
both  ascribed  to  Goethe,  and  he  was  classified  with  Heinse,  the 
licentious  and  weak  follower  of  Wieland.  In  his  drama  of  '  Gotz 
von  Berlichingen '  and  in  his '  Sorrows  of  Werther '  Goethe  made 
himself  responsible  for  some  of  the  literary  and  moral  errors  of  his 
times ;  but  his  genius,  even  theti,  raised  him  far  above  his  young 
cotemporaries.  He  had  another  advantage;  he  was  teachable, 
and  when  he  went  to  Strassburg  in  1770,  he  found  a  teacher  in 
Herder  who,  with  regard  to  some  of  his  progressive  but  rather 
vague  notions  of  the  destiny  of  literature,  might  be  classed  with 
the  men  of  the  stormy  time.  Herder  was  not  original  in 
poetry,  and  for  the  germs  of  his  philosophy  he  was  indebted  to 
Hamann*    In  order  to  trace  to  its  source  the  new  intellectual 


230  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cil. 

movement  of  tbe  period  we  must  refer  to  Goethe's  *  Dichtung  und 
Wahrheitf  especially  to  his  account  of  the  teaching  he  received 
from  Herder  at  the  university  of  Strassburg. 

Here,  we  find,  in  1770,  the  most  teachable  of  the  young  poets  of 

the  day,  receiving  instruction  from  an  inferior  mind — one  whose 

genius  is  receptive  rather  than  creative.    The  teacher  is  a  man  with 

rounded  features,  a  bold  forehead,  dark  eyes  and  a  mouth  of 

pleasant  expression,  when  he  smilek    He  would  be,  on  the  whole, 

good-looking,  but  he  is  suffering  from  a  fistula  in  one  of  his  eyes, 

for  which  he  is  expecting  to  undergo  an  operation.    He  wears  a 

clerical  dress,  and  too  often  speaks  in  the  dictatorial  tone  of  a 

schoolmaster,  though  he  is  only  five  years  older  than  his  pupil 

— a  young  Apollo,  with  fine  features  and  eyes  of  remarkable 

power,  as  may  be  seen  even  in  the  shade  of  the  invalid's  chamber. 

The  teacher  now  twenty^six  years  old,  has  had  a  hard  struggle 

with  poverty  during  youth.     His  father,  a  very  poor  schoolmaster, 

could  not  afibrd  to  send  him  to  a  university;  but  he  studied 

surgery  and  then  went  to  Eonigsberg,  where  he  attended  Kant's 

lectures.    Since  then,  he  has  been  engaged  as  a  schoolmaster  and 

as  a  preacher ;  but  his  favourite  studies  are  poetry,  literary  history, 

and  the  history  of  culture.    He  is  an  enthusiastic  believer  in 

progress,  and  loves  to  preach  about  cosmopolitan  philanthropy. 

It  is  one  of  his  characteristics  that,  in  his  earnestness,  he  assumes 

an  oracular  tone  which  he  does  not  put  aside,  though  talking 

now,  to  no  ordinary  student,  but  to  Johann  Wolfgang  Goethe, 

one  of  the  original  geniuses  of  the  age.    The  latter  is  studying   - 

.  law  at  Strasdburg ;  but  what  is  there  that  he  has  not  studied  P 

Besides  Latin  and  Greek,  he   reads  French,  knows  something 

of  Hebrew,   and  has  read  many  books  on  pietism,  mysticism, 

chemistry,  alchemy,  and  the  fine  arts.    Not  long  ago,  he  injured 

his  health  by  his  efforts  to  master  the  art  of  etching  on  copper. 

His  genius  requires  concentration,  and  Herder  advises  him  to 

devote  himself  to  the  study  of  the  popular  poetry  of  all  nations ! 

• '  What  we  want,*  says  Herder,  *  is  a  poetry  in  harmony  with  **  the 

voices  of  the  peoples "   and  with  the  whole  heart  of  mankin'd. 

Our  studies  must  be  cosmopolitan,  and  must  include  the  popular 

poetry  of  the  Hebrews,  the  Arabs,  the  medieval  Franks,  Germans, 

Italians  and  Spaniards,  and  even  the  songs  and  ballads  of  half 

savage  races.    We  must  go  back  to  the  earliest  times  to  educate 

ourselves,  so  that  we  may  write  poetry,  not  for  a  school,  nor  for  a 


XVL]  HAMANN.  231 

certain  period,  but  for  all  men  and  for  all  time.'  We  see, 
in  these  ideas,  that  Herder  belongs  to  the  time  of  '  Sturm  und 
Drang.'  There  must  be  a  putting  away  of  old  things,  and  all 
things  must  be  made  new. 

Such  teaching  is  rather  vague,  though  Goethe  listens  to  it  with 
deep  interest ;  but  when  he  asks  for  clear  details  he  is  not  satisfied. 
Herder  wishes  to  stimulate  rather  than  to  instruct  his  pupil. 
Several  tracts,  dingily  printed  on  bad  paper,  are  lying  on  the 
table;  they  have  odd  titles,  such  bs  JSsthetica  in  Nuce  (1762), 
and  Socratic  Memorabilia  (1769).  But  who,  among  the  young 
poetical  readers  of  the  day,  ever  heard  of  the  author's  name — 
Johann  George  Hamann  P  When  Goethe  has  opened  one  of  these 
odd  tracts,  and  has  tried  to  read  it,  he  finds  something  that 
attracts  attention,  but  he  cannot  understand  it,  and  begs  his 
friend  to  act  as  intei-preter.  Herder  only  laughs  and  says: — 
'you  must  read  on,  and  you  will  come  to  the  meaning.'  Goethe -is 
teachable ;  so  he  carries  away  Hamann's  rhapsodies  and  studies 
them.  He  soon  finds  in  them  some  of  Herder's  own  vague 
thoughts,  but  still  more  Vaguely  expressed.  If  they  contain 
the  elements  of  a  future  poetry,  it  is  only  as  the  mists  and 
clouds  of  February  may  be  said  to  enfold  the  germs  of  a  latent 
summer.  But  Goethe  reads  on  through  the  rhapsody  on  aesthetics, 
and  is  not  seriously  discouraged  even  by  such  passages  as  the 
following : — 

Poetry  is  the  mother  tongue  of  the  human  race,  and  is  older  than  prose,  as 
gardening  is  older  than  agriculture,  and  painting  older  than  writing ;  or  as 
song,  parable,  and  barter  are  older  than  declamation,  syllogism,  and  com- 
merce. A  deep  sleep  was  the  rest  of  our  primeval  ancestors,  and  their 
exercise  was  a  wild  bacchanal  dance.  Seven  days  they  would  sit  in  the 
silence  of  thought  or  wonder,  and  then  they  opened  their  mouths  and  uttered 

inspired  words Let  the  blame  lie  where  it  may— outside  or  inside  of  us 

— we  find  now  in  nature  nothing  more  than  sybilline  leaves  scattered,  here 
and  there — *  dutjecti  membra  poeteeJ  To  coUect  them  is  the  work  of  the 
scientific  man ;  the  philosopher  has  to  interpret  them ;  the  poet  must  imitate 
them  or — a  bolder  aim  I — ^must  try  to  reduce  them  to  harmony.  .  .  .  The 
book  of  creation  contains  examples  of  universal  thoughts  revealed  from  God 
to  his  creatures  by  means  of  creatures,  and  the  books  of  the  covenant  con- 
tain examples  of  the  deeper  wisdom  which  God  is  pleased  to  reveal  to  men 
by  men.  The  unity  of  the  Author  is  reflected  in  the  several  dialects  of  his 
works ;  in  all,  what  a  tone  of  unmeasured  height  and  depth ! 

Through  other  passages  even  more  obscure  than  these  Goethe 
must  read  patiently,  in  order  to  find  out  Hamann's  meaning.    But 


c    jir- 


■i     •».*  ^.^ 


I 


232  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cir.  > 

somethiDg  more  must  be  sud  here  of  a  writer  to  wliom  Herder 
and  Goethe  were  indebted. 

JoHANK  QxoBe  Hamann,  bom  in  1730  at  Eohigsberg,  was  for 
some  years  engaged  as  a  clerk,  as  a  private  tutor  and  as  a  com- 
mercial agent.  He  was  unfortunate  in  the  last-named  capacity, 
and,  after  long  enduring  poverty,  he  gained  a  subordinate  office  ■ 
under  government  and  a  small  pension.  His  life  was  marked  by 
strong  contnwts.  He  was  deeply  religious  \  but  was  not  always 
correct  in  his  morals.  His  principles  were  by  no  means  ascetic. 
His  taithy  though  strangely  expressed,  was  orthodox,  and  he  was  a 
firm  believer  in  the  doctrine  of  the  forgiveness  of  sins.  While  he 
was  engaged  as  a  commercial  traveller,  he  visited  London,  where  ' 

vexation  on  account  of  some  unfortunate  transactions  led  him  into  : 

dissipated  habits.  He  recovered  his  moral  strength  by  reading 
the  Bible ;  or  as  he  says  (in  a  letter  to  his  friend  Jaco'bi),  he  was  , 

lifted  out  of  despair  by  means  of  a  few  despised  texts,  '  as  the  \ 

prophet  Jeremiah  was  raised  firom  his  dungeon  by  the  aid  of  some  , 

cords  and  old  rags.'  Hamann's  subsequent  misfortunes  were  partly 
the  result  of  his  own  imprudence ;  for  he  was  privately  married  to 
a  poor  village  girl,  while  he  was  still  in  very  needy  circumstances,  f 

and  he  was  heavily  afflicted  by  the  cares  of  his  family.  In  his 
later  years,  several  good  friends — ^including  Jacob!  and  the 
princess  Galitzin — assisted  him ;  but  their  aid  came  late,  when  he 
was  worn  out  by  the  adversities  of  his  life.  He  died  in  1788,  at 
the  house  of  the  princess  Galitzin,  near  Munster,  and  was  buried 
in  her  garden,  where  a  stone  was  erected  to  his  memory.  His 
friends  and  disciples  styled  him  '  the  Magus  of  the  North.'  Though 
he  vnrote  mostly  in  an  oracular  style,  such  men  as  Herder,  Goethe, 
Jacobi  and  Jean  Paul  Ilichter  were  numbered  among  his  readers, 
and  he  was  respected  by  Leasing,  Moses  Mendelssohn,  and  Kant. 
The  main  purport  of  his  teaching  may  be  briefly  stated : — Ha- 
mann  was  an  enemy  to  the  cold  rationalism  that  prevailed  in  his  "^ 

day ;  but  he  did  not  attempt  to  refute  it  by  logic.  He  appealed  ^ 
to  his  own  feelings  and  intuitions,  and,  therefore,  must  be  classed 
with  mystics.  For  him  nature,  the  written  word,  and  history,  were 
the  three  forms  of  one  revelation,  and  must  be  all  studied  in  their 
concords.  Hamann  respected  £jmt,  but  rejected  his  exposition 
of  religion  as  rationalistic  or  merely  ethical,  and  on  the. same 
ground,  he  denounced  the  Berlin  philosophy  which,  in  fact,  was 
nothing  more  than  the  deism  of  Voltaire  put  into  German.    The 


XVI.]  HAMANN.  233 

'eolightened '  had  opposed  and  ridiculed  e^erytliing  that  was  not 
commonplace.  They  disliked  all  such  men  as  Ilamann,  Herder, 
and  Jacobi,  who  talked  of  sentiments  and  inspiration.  For 
JjesHmrr^  tbe^  Berlin  men  were  compelled  to  feel  some  respect ;  but 
in  his  later  vcflrs,  ho  cared  very  little  for  their  good  opinion,  and 
was  by  no  means  satisfied  with  their  negatire  notions  about  reli- 
gion. Hamann  was  the  boldest  opponent  of  the  Berlin  school,  and 
though  he  uttered  bis  protests  in  a  rhapsodical  style^  his  words 
had  a  good  purport.  He  denounced  self-conceit,  negation  and 
abstraction,  and  would  haye  neither  old  traditions  nor  intuitions 
sacrificed  to  a  logic  based  upon  dogmatism.  His  views  of  the 
origin  and  the  purport  of  poetry  found  an  interpreter  in  Herder,  and 
some  of  his  religious  principles  may  be  seen  reflected  in  the  works  of 
his  friend,  Friedrich  Heinrich  Jacobi,  a  writer  who  has  been 
classed  with  German  philosophers,  though  he  had  neither  a  system 
nor  a  method.  His  chief  works — the  letters  '  on  Spinoza's  Theory,' 
and  the  Essays  on  *  David  Hume '  and  '  on  Divine  Things  and  their 
Revelation  ' — are  mostly  controversial,  but  may  be  reduced  to  the 
assertion,  that  the  truths  of  morals  and  religion  <u'e  known  only  by 
intuition,  or  faith.  Jacobi  wrote  also  two  imaginative  works — 
'Edward  AUwill's  Letters'  and  *  Woldemar ' — both  rather  didactic 
and  sentimental  than  narrative.  The  purport  of  the  latter  is  to 
show  that  a  high  and  pure  friendship  may  exist  between  persons  of 
opposite  sexes.  As  one  of  the  early  friends  of  Goethe  and  of  other 
young  literary  men  of  the  age,  Jacobi  exerted  some  important 
influence  in  his  day.  The  respectful  reserve  and  caution  for  which 
Goethe  was  remarkable  in  hier  references  to  the  religious  questions 
and  interests  of  his  times,  and  his  dislike  of  theological  and  meta- 
physical controversies,  may  be  partly  ascribed  to  his  acquaintance 
with  Jacobi.  It  is,  however,  far  clearer  that  Goethe,  during  his 
youth,  was  indebted  to  Herder,  of  whose  theories  and  writings 
some  further  account  must  be  given  here. 

JoiULSTSf  GoTiTBiED  Hbbdeb,  bom  in  1744,  passed  his  youth  in 
the  needy  circumstances  already  mentioned ;  but  gained  a 
favourable  position  in  1776,  when  Goethe  recommended  him  to 
the  Duke  Karl  August  of  Weimar,  by  whom  he  was  appointed^ 
chaplain  to  the  court  and  superintendent  of  the  church  district  of 
Weimar.  Here  he  mostly  resided  until  his  death,  which  took 
place  in  1808.  Some  years  afterwards  the  Duke  erected,  in 
memory,  of  Herder,  a  monumental  tablet  with  the  inscription^ 


t 
i 


284  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUKE.  [Ch. 

'Light,  Love,  Life.'  During  the  years  when  Goethe  and  Herder 
lived  as  neighbours  in  the  metropolis  of  German  literature,  tlieir 
friendship  gradually  declined;  for  throughout  his  life.  Herder 
never  succeeded  in  laying  aside  the  schoolmaster-like  tone  that 
'had  sometimjBS  made  his  conversation  di^greeable  at  Strassburg. 
His  later  years  were  overshadowed  by  melancholy,  and  afler  all 
his  studies  and  his  contributions  to  literature,  he  often  sighed, 
*  Ah,  my  wasted  life  I ' 

Herder's  was  a  receptive  genius  and  his  sympathies  were 
catholic.  If  any  proof  were  wanted  of  Wordsworth's  theory — 
that  a  great  poet  differs  from  other  imaginative  men  chiefly  in  the 
degree  of  his  energy  of  imagination — it  might  be  found  in  Herder. 
He  was  a  poet  who  required  considerable  aids  from  other  minds, 
and  his  original  poems  are  inferior  to  his  versions  of  poems  from 
many  sources.  By  bis  *  Voices  of  the  Peoples ' — a  series  of  free 
translations  of  the  popular  songs  and  ballads  of  several  nations — 
and  by  his  'Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry'  (1782)  he  awakened  a 
cosmopolitan  taste  in  imaginative  literature.  In  theology  he  was 
liberal,  but  less  negative  than  the  rationalists.  His  so-called 
philosophy,  like  that  of  his  friends  Hamann  and  Jacobi,  was 
founded  on  faith  and  feeling,  but  it  had  no  method,  and  he  was 
quite  out  of  his  depth  when  he  attempted  to  refute  Kant.  In  his 
unfinished  work,  '  Ideas  for  a  Philosophy  of  the  History  of  Man- 
kind '  (1784-01)  he  suggested  the  aims  and  the  outlines  of  that 
compreliensive  study ;  but  his  knowledge,  though  very  extensive  in 
some  departments,  was  not  equal  to  the  task  of  filling  up  the  out- 
lines of  such  a  philosophy.  His  best  work — ^the  popular  songs 
nnd  ballads  of  many  nations — is  divided  into  six  books,  containing 
respectively,  scmgs  from  the  North,  from  the  South,  and  from  the 
North-west,  Scandinavian  lyrics,  old  German  songs  and  some 
specimens  of  the  poetry  of  half-savage  tribes.  It  was  characteristic 
of  Herder  that  he  accepted  as  genuine  the  poems  ascribed  to 
Ossian.  In  other  translations  and  imitations  he  directed  the 
attention  of  his  readers  to  oriental  poetry.  The  whole  aim  of  his 
(literary  labours  seemed  to  be  to  make  the  Germans  forget  the 
{distinctive  character  of  their  own  land  and  recognise  themselves  as 
I  citizens  of  the  world.  Such  teaching  was  too  readily  accepted  by 
'Goethe.  *  National  literature,'  said  he,  'is  of  little  importance : 
the  age  of  a  world-literature  is  at  hand,  and  every  one  ought  to 
work  in  order  to  accelerate  the  coming  of  this  new  era.'    There  is 


XVI.]  HERDEB.  235 

some  truth  in  this;  but  it  may  be  maintained  also  tbat  distinct 
national  literatures  are  wanted  to  make  a  true  world-literature, 
just  as  distinct  outlines  and  colours  are  required  for  a  painting, 
however  harmonious.  A  whole  in  which  all  the  parts  are  absorbed 
and  lost  can  have  no  life.  Lessingi  it  is  said,  reformed  style  and 
made  German  poetry  artistic ;  but  Herder  inspired  it  with  a  new 
spirit  and  purport  This  does  not  fiurly  and  fully  describe  the 
difference  between  the  two  men.  Lessing  endeayoured — at  least 
in  his  'Minna  yon  Bamhelm  '—to  make  poetic  literature  national, 
and  it  would  haye  been  well  if  that  example  had  been  followed. 
Whatever  may  be  the  advantages  of  cosmopolitan  studies  for  the 
historian  or  the  philosopher,  they  have  a  subordinate  value  in 
poetry.  Who  is  there  that  would  sacrifice  one  of  Wordsworth's 
local  poems  closely  attached  for  ever  to  one  of  his  haunts  in  West- 
morelaad  and  Cumberland,  for  the  sake  of  any  versions  that  he 
might  have  given  us  of  oriental  legends  P  Why  should  not  every 
nation,  while  cultivating  an  acquaintance  with  foreign  literature, 
preserve  its  own  distinct  character ;  or  why  should  the  expressions 
of  poetic  genius  in  vaiioua  countries  be  less  diversified  than  their 
climates  and  their  vegetation  P  We  do  not  go  to  India  to  see  the 
trees  and  the  grasses  of  English  valleys.  '  A  man  who  would  do 
anything  good  in  art,'  says  Goethe,  '  must  Jiold  himself  within 
his  proper  bounds ; '  and  so  must  a  nation.  These  are  consider- 
ations that  may,  perhaps,  tend  to  limit  praises  bestowed  on  the 
vague  universalism  of  Herder.  In  hid  times  German  poetry  had  a 
wide  enough  field  to  wander  in  without  travelling  into  aU  the 
four  quarters  of  the  globe  in  search  of  topics.  For  how  little  had 
been  told  of  a  land  where  the  enthusiasm  of  the  crusades,  the 
contests  of  Rome  vTith  the  Empire,  the  struggle  of  the  towns  with 
the  barons,  and  such  events  as  occupied  the  centuries  from  the 
thirteenth  to  the  seventeenth,  had  been  hardly  described,  save  by 
dry  chroniclers.  From  all  this  life  and  reality  Herder  turned 
attention  away  to  meditations  on  universal  history,  and  his  ex- 
ample had  a  considerable  effect  on  his  cotemporaries  and  his 
followers. 

With  regard  to' his  style.  Herder  cannot,  for  a  moment,  be  com- 
pared with  Lessing.  It  must  be  allowed,  that  in  treating  of  such 
themes  as  the  spirit  and  purport  of  poetry,  he  was  more  exposed 
to  the  danger  of  falling  into  vagueness  than  Lessing  could  be 
when  writing  of  form  and  construction;  but,  even  when  he 


r 


286  OUTLINES  OF  GBBMAH  UTERATUKE.  [Cic. 

pidldflsee  to  be  critioal,  Herder  is  too  often  declamatory.  He  is  a 
preacher  who  appeak  to  hia  own  feelings  for  a  proof  that  he 
rightly  interprets  the  scriptures.  His  sentiments  will  not  allow 
his  thoughts  to  develope  themselves  dearly.  His  views  are  very 
wide,  but,  like  pictures  cast  on  a  screen  by  a  niagie  lantern,  they 
lose  in  light  and  definition  as  muoh  as  they  gain  in  extent.  Her* 
dor  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  animating  influence  he  exerted 
on  the  minds  of  several  of  his  eotemporaries. 


zvn.]  ^aOrz  yon  BBBucHiKaEN.'  287 


CHAPTER  XVH 

SEVENTH  P£S/OD.— 1770-1830. 


'GOTI  TOir  BBBIICHIMOaN' — '"WBRTHEB's  UEIDBN' — THB  MSN  OV 
'BTDBM  tJKD  DBAKO* — ^THB  BAINBUin)  — PBOfltf  W1UTEB8. 

Ik  1778,  the  drama  of  '  Gotz  von  Berlichingen '  was  published 
without  the  author's  nanie,  and  was  generally  received  with 
enthusiastic  admiration.  In  several  respects  it  realised  the  ideal 
desiderated  by  *  the  originals,'  or  the  literary  men  of  revolutionary 
tendencies.  It  was  a  national  drama,  and  the  character  of  its 
hero,  Qotz  of  the  iron  hand,  one  of  the  latest  survivors  of  the 
old  Sitterihum  (knighthood),  was  not  too  remote  from  popular 
sympathies.  He  had  supported  the  Reformation,  and  had  given 
proofs  of  manly  generosity  during  the  Peasants'  War.  In  his 
biography  written  by  himself,  he  describes  in  a  tone  of  childlike 
innocence  such  exploits  as  would  now  be  called  robberies,  and  the 
frank  and  kind  expression  of  the  author's  portrait  can  leave  no 
doubt  of  his  sincerity.  He  lived  in  the  days  when  the  princes  were 
making  use  of  the  Reformation  as  a  pretext  for  exsJting  them- 
selves on  the  ruins  of  the  EiUerthumy  and  he  fought^  as  he 
believed,  for  the  right  Goethe  departed  rather  widely  from  the 
&cts  of  his  hero's  autobiography,  and  gave  expression  in  Gotz  to 
some  of  the  revolutionary  notions  prevalent  when  the  drama  ap- 
peared. The  play  was  written  in  defiance  of  the  rules,  of  the 
French  drama,  and  therefore  was  hailed  as  being  in  accordance 
with  Lessing's  theoiy  and  Klopstock's  patriotism;  while  'the 
originals' — the  men  who  would  derive  all  their  morality  from 
crude  nature — were  charmed  by  the  scene  in  which  'brother 
Martin  '  declaims  against  monasticism.  On  the  other  hand,  Gotz 
gave  offence  to  aU  admirers  of  the  French  theatre,  including  the 
king,  who  spoke  of  the  new  national  drama  as '  a  detestable  imita- 


238  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

tion  of  bad  English  plays/  and  'fuU  of  disgusting  platitudes/ 
This  critique  might  have  been  fairly  applied,  in  all  its  severity, 
to  a  series  of  wild,  shapeless '  Hitter  dramas/  called  into  existence 
by  the  success  of  Qotz.  Nothing  indeed  can  be  said  in  favour  of 
the  model  itself  as  a  work  of  ait ;  for  it  is  only  a  series  of  scenes, 
each  having  a  separate  life  and  interest  *  Its  greatest  and  most 
permanent  merit  is  found  in  its  truly  popular  style. 

A  still  greater  success  followed  the  publication  of  the  senti- 
mental romance,  ^  The  Sorrows  of  Werther,'  which  first  appeared, 
without  the  author's  name,  in  1774,  and  being  soon  translated 
into  several  languages  was  circulated  throughout  Europe.  Some 
parts  of  the  work  were,  doubtless,  founded  on  the  writer's  own 
experience ;  but  it  must  be  remembered  that  he  was  a  Proteus  in 
his  sympathies.  The  fate  of  Jerusalem,  a  young  man  with  whom 
Goethe  had  had  but  a  slight  acquaintance,  was  described  in  con- 
nection with  several  fictitious  circumstances.  The  heroine  Char- 
lotte— one  of  Goethe's  friends  when  he  lived  at  Wetzlar — ^waa 
afterwards  married  to  a  man  whose  character  was  falsely  supposed 
to  be  represented  by  that  of  *  Albert,'  the  weak  husband  iu  the 
romance.  The  public  accepted  the  'Sorrows  of  Werther'  as  a 
faithful  biography  of  Jerusalem,  and  for  a  time,  the  incidents  of 
the  story  were  talked  of  as  well-known,  facts  that  hnd  taken  place 
nt  Wetzlar.  'Lotte' — afterwords,  Frau  Kestner— became  cele- 
brated OS  a  heroine,  while  her  husband  felt  annoyed  because  it 
was  imi^ined  that  be  had  been  described  under  the  disguise  of 
Albert.  Travellers  came  to  Wetzlar  to  find  some  relics  of  the 
melancholy  man  who  died  for  love,  and  the  landlord  of  an  inn 
there,  to  please, hb  visitors,  raised  a  small  mound  of  earth  in  his 
garden,  and,  for  a  trifling  gratuity,  exhibited  it  as  '  the  grave  of 
the  unfortunate  Werther.'  All  the  blame  of  this  extravagance 
must  not  be  cast  on  Goethe.  His  sentimental  romance  was  the 
eflect  of  a  literary  epidemic  that  might  be  traced  back  at  least  aa 
far  as  to  the  English  novels  of  Hichardson,  whose  influence  had 
been  very  extensive  in  Germany.  Even  such  a  recluse  meta- 
physician as  Kant  had  loved  to  read  of  the  sorrows  of  '  Pamela ' 
and  '  Clarissa  Harlowe.'  Many  of  the  enthusiastic  admirers  of 
<  Werther '  were  readers  who  thought  Ossian  a  greater  poet  than 
Homer.  A  dreamy  sentimentality  prevailed,  and  Goethe  sympa- 
thised with  the  feeling.  The  epidemic  was  spread,  but  was  not 
created,  by  Goethe's  romance.    It  was  a  dream  of  his  youth — 


XVII.]  '  WERTHEB.*  289 

a  morbid  dream.  ScHopenhauer,  tHe  arch  cynic^  regrets  that 
Goethe  employed  his  genius  so  often  to  write  of  love^  but  admits 
that  the  topic  is  hardly  to  be  avoided ;  for,  says  he  gravely,  '  it 
will  intrude  itself  everywhere^  disturbing  th*  plans  of  statesmen, 
and  the  meditations  of  philosophers.'  Wolfram  von  Eschenbach, 
in  his  '  Titurel/  had  long  before  made  the  same  apology,  but  in  a 
far  more  poetical  style. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  the  tendency  of  Goethe's 
earliest  romance  was  enervating,  and  he  was  soon  convinced  of 
his  error.  He  then  wrote  bis  'Triumph  of  Sentimentality'  as 
a  satirical  antidote  to  '  Werther ; '  but  the  medicine  had  no  great 
effect  The  romance  had  been  recommended,  not  only  by  its 
purport,  but  also  by  its  excellent  style,  of  which  one  proof  is  the 
facility  with  which  it  may  be  translated  into  French. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that '  Werther '  was  followed  by 
a  crowd  of  imitations  barely  worth  mentioning.  Among  them  the 
tedious  romance  of  'Siegwart*  by  ZoRiLsrs  Mahtin  Millee, 
might  be  referred  to  as  one  that  enjoyed  a  remarkable  popularity. 
We  notice  a  few  other  inferior  writers  of  fiction  in  these  times, 
because  their  productions  serve  to  show  by  contrast  the  merits  of 
Goethe  and  Schiller,  whose  best  works  were  written  in  defiance* 
of  the  degraded  taste  that  prevailed  in  their  days.  We  cannot 
fairly  estimate  such  works  as  '  Iphigenia '  and  *  Wilhelm  Tell,'  if 
we  know  little  or  nothing  of  the  lower  poetical  literature  that 
found  numerous  admirers,  fiom  the  days  of  Klinger  and  Lenz  to 
the  times  when  Iffland  and  Kotzebue  had  possession  of  the  German 
stage. 

Goethe's  young  cotemporaries  belonged  to  two  classes — the  meni 
of  the  Gottingen  School  (the  'Hainbund'),  and  'the  originals,! 
already  generally  described.  It  is  among  the  latter  that  we  finer 
the  more  prominent  characteristics  of  the  imaginative  literature  of 
the  age.  Its  worst  errors  may  be  sufficiently  indicated  by  a  brief 
reference  to  the  writings  of  Wilhelm  Hed^se  (1749-1803),  who 
in  his  youth  was  patronised  by  father  Gleim,  and  afterwards  was 
an  imitator  of  Wieland.  It  is  enough  to  mention  his  roipance  of 
'  Ardinghello  and  the  Fortunate  Islands '  as  a  specimen  of  debased 
fiction,  of  which  the  contents  are  as  impure  as  the  treatment  is 
unartistic  The  less  ofiensive  parts  of  the  book  consist  of  some 
dreamy  attempts  to  describe  works  of  art  To  pass  over  all  the 
worst  parts  of  the  story— its  sentimentality  on  the  subject  of 


240  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ok, 

friendship  may  be  noticed  as  one  of  the  errors  from  which  even 
the  early  writings  of  Goethe  are  comparatively  free.  There  is 
nothing  real  and  manly  in  Heinse's  notions  of  friendship,  and  his 
language  is  so  full  of  bad  taste  that  it  can  hardly  be  quoted.  This 
is  the  style  in  which  he  represents  the  sudden  formation  of  ^an 
everlasting  bond  of  friendship ' — ^  he  sprang  up  from  his  chair  so 
violently  that  the  glasses  were  knocked  off  the  table,  as  he  ex- 
claimed ;  '^  Oh  happy,  singular,  wonderful  coincidence  I  so  young, 
80  handsome,  and  so  full  of  good  sense  and  experience  I  we  must 
be  friends  for  evermore  1  nothing  shall  part  ua — darling  of  my 
"soul  I "'      • 

When  we  turn  to  notice  another  prevalent  fault — the  taste  for 
such  violent,  unartistic  writing  as  is  now  called  '  sensational  '^- 
we  see  at  once,  the  distance  existing  between  Goethe  and  his 
young  cotemporaries,  the  dramatic  authors,  Lenz  and  Klinger. 
About  the  time  when  he  was  writing '  Gotz  von  Berlichingen/ 
Goethe  became  acquainted  with  these  sensational  playwrights. 
They  had.  read  Shakspere,  and  had  been  carried  away  by  the 
vehemence  of  his  dramatic  power,  but  had  learned  nothing  of  the 
art  b^  which  that  power  was  controlled.  The  result  was  that  they 
wrote  some  deplorable  dramas,  which,  however,  found  ad- 
mirers. 

.ToHAKir  REnrHOLD  Lknz,  bom  in  1750,  studied  at  Konigsberg. 
and  was  for  some  time  employed  as  a  private  tutor  before  he  came 
to  Weimar.  There  he  made  himself  noticeable  for  his  defiance  of 
the  conventions  of  polite  society,  and  was  soon  compelled  to  leave 
the  town.  He  afterwards  lived  at  Ziirich  and  in  Russia,  was 
afflicted  with  insanity,  and  died  in  very  miserable  circumstances 
in  1792.  In  his  dramas — such  as  *  Der  Hofmeister,'  and  '  Die 
Soldaten'  (1774-70) — he  mingled  comedy  with  tragedy,  and 
treated  with  an  equal  contempt  the  rules  of  art,  and  those  of 
decency.  His  cotemporary  Fbisdrich  Maximiliait  von  Klikgeb, 
bom  in  1752,  was  a  far  stronger  man  in  intellect  and  character,  and 
bis  worst  personal  eccentricity,  during  youth,  seems  to  have  been 
his  dislike  of  a  complete  suit  of  clothes.  But  this  is  only  what 
was  said  by  Wie}and  who  was  the  enemy  of  all  men  of  Klinger*s 
school.  After  visiting  Weimar,  where  Goethe  treated  him 
kindly,  Klinger  was  engaged  for  some  time  in  writing  for  the 
Leipzig  theatre.  His  dramas  ^  Sturm  und  Drang/  ^  Die  Zwillinge,' 
*  Konradin/  '  Der  Giinstlin^ '  and  others  are,  with  regard  to  their 


XVIJ.]  KLINGEE.  •  241 

offences  against  good  taste,  worse  than  bis  didactic  romances; 
though  these  are  also  destitute  of  moderation  and  sobriety.  Hi^ 
purport  in  most  of  bis  prose-fictions  is  severely  moral;  but  he 
thinks  it  necessary  to  teach  ethics  by  exposing  crimes  and  miseries 
in  all  their  bate  deformity,  and  by  the  use  of  unchastened  language, 
such  as  we  find  in  *  Faust's  Life,  Actions  and  Doom/  Klinger^s 
best  romance — '  the  Man  of  the  World,  and  the  Poet '  (1798) — is 
morose  and  misanthropic  in  its  tone,  but  contains  useful  Wamiugs 
for  idle  dreamers.  In  his  'Meditations  and  Thoughts  on  the 
World  and  on  Literature '  (1802),  he  gives  bis  severe  notions  on 
ethics  in  a  style  less  tedious  than  that  of  bis  romances.  Of  these 
it  will  be  enough  to  notice  very  briefly  one — '  Faust '-«-as  a 
specimen  of  the  taste  for  demonology  prevalent  in  Klinger*s  day. 
When  Faust  is  summoned  to  his  doom,  he  defies  the  arch  enemy 
in  words  so  daring  that,  says  Klinger :  '  never  since  Pandemonium 
was  founded,  was  there  such  a  silence  as  now  reigned  throughout 
the  abodes  of  everlasting  lamentation  t '  In  short,  Faust  frightened 
all  the  demons.  In  another  passage,  when  the  tempter  appears  in 
his  true  foim  before  his  victim,  the  scene  is  thus  described :  '  Satan 
towers  up  to  a  gigantic  height ;  his  eyes  glow  like  thunder-clouds 
from  which  the  beams  of  the  setting  sun  are  reflected;  his 
breathings  are  like  the  sighings  of  a  tempest  through  chasms,  when 
the  crust  of  the  earth  is  burst  open ;  the  earth  groans  ben^th  his 
feet,  and  his  hair,  through  which  a  storm  is  raving,  floats  around 
his  head  like  the' tail  of  a  threatening  comet  t'  Another  of  t]^e 
young  men  clashed  wiih  '  the  originals,'  the  painter,  Frisbbich 
MiJLLER  (1760-1823)  treated  the  same  subject  in  his  'Faust'  but 
hardly  with  such  energy  as  Klinger  displayed.  In  '  Genoveva,'  a 
drama,  and  in  several  of  his  ballads  and  idylls,  Miiller  wrote  in  a 
natural  and  popular  style,  and,  in  some  respects,  anticipated  the 
tendencies  of  the  Romantic  School  in  poetical  literature. 

FsiEDBiCH  Daniel  Schuba.et,  bom  in  1739,  may  be  mentioned 
here;  for  though  he  was  not  personally  associated  with  the  writers 
above  named,  his  characteristics  belong  mostly  to  the  time  of 
Stttrm  und  Drang,  He  was  a  Suabian  schoolmaster,  and  a  man 
of  versatile  abilities.  At  one  time  he  supported  himself  as  a 
teacher  of  music,  then  as  a  public  reciter  of  poetry,  and  lastly, 
as  the  editor  of  a  newspaper  die  Deutsche  Chrotiik,  notorious  for  its 
audacity.  Writers  of  Schubart's  biography  bave  described  him, 
on  one  side,  as  a  dissolute  man,  on  the  other^  as  jk  patriot.   He  had 

s 


242  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEEATUEE.  [Cu. 

good  talents  for  music  and  poetical  declamation  and  was  often  well 
paid  for  his  services^  but  lie  had  everywhere  the  misfortune  of  finding 
or  making  enemies.    He  was  expelled  from  his  place  as  organist 
at  Ludwigsburg  for  writing  a  parody  on  the  litany.   After  that  he 
was  patronised  at  Mannheim,  but  soon  made  himself  unwelcome 
there,  and  his  usual  bad  fortune  haunted  him  when  he  went  to 
Munchen.    Then  he  started  *  the  German  Chronicle '  at  Augsburg, 
where  he  had  a  brilliant  success  as  a  reciter  of  poetry.    Again  he 
made  enemies,  and  was  driven  away  to  Ulm,  where  he  continued 
to  publish  his  paper.     Having  given  offence  to  the  Duke  of 
Wiirtemberg,  the  editor  of  the  chronicle  was  enticed  into  the 
domains  of  that  ruler  and  there  was  sentenced,  without  any  form 
of  ti*ial,  to  suffer  ten  years*  imprisonment.    In  his  own  account  of 
this  transaction  he  wrote,  with  some  pathos,  of  his  separation  from 
his  family ;  but  he  forgot  to  confess  that  he  had  been  a  careless 
husband  and  father.    The  imprisonment  was  a  most  despotic  act ; 
but  it  should  be  added  that  Scfaubart's  faithful  wife  and  his  family 
were  better  cared  for  while  he  was  kept  in  confinement  than  they 
had  been  sometimes  when  he  was  at  liberty  to  provide  for  their 
wants.    After  his  release,  he  returned  to  his  old  habits  of  dissi- 
pation, and  died  in  1791.   In  literature  he  partly  represents  a  taste 
for  the  grotesque  and  horrible,  expressed  in  ballads  beginning  with 
such  lines  as : — 

*  See  yoa  the  blood-stain  on  the  wall  ?  ' 


or, 


*  Ha !  here's  one  bone  and  here's  another ! ' 


Goethe,  in  his  grotesque  ballad,  '  the  Skeletons'  Dance,'  showed 

that,  if  he  chose,  he  could  excel  Schubart  in  this  sensational 

style  :— 

*  Then  ah !  what  a  dance  in  the  churchyard  lone ! 
And  oh !  what  a  clatter  of  bone  upon  bone,* 

Schubart's  poem,  entitled  *  the  Vault  of  the  Princes '  was  gene- 
rally admired  in  his  day.  A  few  verses  may  serve  to  show  another 
literary  trait  of  the  times,  declamation  on  the  wickedness  of  ruling 
families :-~ 

'And  here  they  lie  !  these  ashes  of  proud  princes, 

Once  clad  in  bright  array ; 
Here  lie  their  bonea — all  in  the  dismal  glimmer 
Of  the  pale  dying  day. 


XVII.]  THE  'hainbuxd;  243 

And  their  old  coffins  in  the  vault  are  gleaming 

Like  rotten  timber,  side  by  side ; 
And  silver  family-shields  are  faintly  shining— 

Their  last  display  of  pride. 

Oh,  yrake  them  not — ^the  scourges  of  their  race, 

Earth  has  for  them  no  room  1 
Soon,  soon  enough  will  over  them  be  rattling 

The  thunders  of  their  doom.* 

Though  their  oifences  against  good  taste,  morals  and  rules  of 
art  were  hardly  pardonable,  the  sensational  poets,  already  so 
often  referred  to,  were  progressive  in  some  of  their  innovations, 
and  an  excuse  may  be  found  for  their  extravagance  when  it  is 
contrasted  with  the  tameness  of  the  so-called  poetry  of  the 
'  Hainbund.'  This  union,  the  latest  of  formal  associations  Qf  literary 
men  in  the  times  of  Klopstock,  was  formed  by  several  young 
students  of  Gottingen,  and  in  a  manner  suited  to  their  sentimental 
t^te.  They  were  assembled  one  evening,  near  a  clump  of  oak- 
trees  in  a  field,  while  the  moon  was  sbining  clearly.  Here  they 
agreed  together  to  form  a  school  for  the  culture  of  patriotic  poetry^ 
and  pledged  themselves  to  act  honestly  towards  each  other  in  their 
exchanges  of  criticism.  Their  meeting  ended  with  the  ceremony 
of  crowning  themselves  with  oak-leaves.  In  nationality  they 
endeavoured  to  make  themselves  worthy  followers  of  Klopsto/k.  On. 
the  anniversary  of  his  birthday  (1778)  they  assembled  to/  iionoun 
their  master,  and  on  the  same  occasion,  they  burned  M  ieland*sj 
portrait  and  some  of  his  writings.  Both  the  '  Hainbund '  men  and! 
the  men  ofStierm  t<n(fDran^ disliked  Wielandj  the  former,  because! 
he  had  introduced  a  foreign  and  licentious  taste ;  the  latter,  because 
he  cared  for  rules  of  art  and  bad  common-^nse  enough  to  know 
that  Elinger  was  not  a  second  Shakspere.  On  the  whole,  the 
Gottingen  men  of  the  'Hainbund*  were  conservatives  in  poetry, 
and  their  representative,  Voss,  wrote  bitterly  against  all  the  inno- 
vations of  the  original  geniuses  and  against' those  of  their  successors, 
the  Romantic  School.  But  the  '  Hainbund '  produced  no  great 
poets.  Burger,  the  most  powerful  of  the  men  associated  with  the 
union,  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  one  of  its  membera  "With 
regard  to  his  cultivation  of  a  popular  style  in  ballads,  he  might  be 
reckoned  among  Herder^s  disciples,  while  in  other  respects,  he  was 
associated  with  the  sensational  school. 

QoiTfBisD  August  Bubgeb,  bom  on  the  first  day  of  1748^ 

b2 


244  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

studied  at  Halle  and  Gottuigen,  and,  during  his  youth,  was  at- 
tracted by  the  charms  of  English  poetry ;  espedally  by  Shab- 
spcre^B  plays  and  Percy's  ballads.  Of  the  latter  he  translated 
several,  but  deviated  considerably  from  their  simplicity,  in  order 
to  suit  a  taste  for  so-called  poetic  diction.  Burger's  practical  life 
was  irregular  and  unhappy.  However  great  his  sins  might  have 
been,  he  was  severely  punished  in  his  third  marriage.  A  senti- 
mental and  frivolous  woman  pretended  to  be  fascinated  by  some  of 
his  poems,  and  wrote  to  him  in  verse;  offering  her  seiTices  as  a 
mother  to  his  three  children.  He  was  weak  enough  to  accept  the 
offer,  but  he  soon  bitterly  repented.  This  third  wife  made  him 
wretched  for  two  years  and  then  left  hhn,  about  the  time  when  his 
literary  reputation  was  attacked  by  the  severest  criticism  ever 
written  by  Schiller.  There  was  only  one  consolation  left  for 
Burger — his  death,  which  took  place  in  1794.  It  was  a  miserable 
spectacle  to  see  the  woman  who  had  embittered  his  last  four 
years,  when,  after  his  decease,  she  travelled  about  the  country  and 
made  small  profits  by  reciting  his  ballads  with  affected  pathos. 

Biirger  had  great  merits  of  style  and  yersiffcation.  His  wild, 
spectral  ballad  of  '  Leonora' was  rapidly  spread  through  Germany 
nod  soon  translated  into  several  languages.  An  English  version 
was  Sir  Walter  Scott's  first  publication.  Other  balLids,  such  as 
*  Lenardo  and  Bhmdine '  and  '  the  Pastor's  Daughter  of  Tauben- 
hain '  were  generally  admired  for  their  graphic  and  popular  style, 
though  in  some  respects  they  were  severely  criticised.  Several  of 
.Burger's  songs  are  good,  and  his  sonnets  are  excellent.  The 
opinions  of  critics  have  been  divided  respecting  the  poet's  general 
merits.  Those  who  have  praised  him  highly  have  spoken  chiefly 
f  f  his  best  ballads  and  of  a  few  of  his  lyrical  poems,  while  they 
have  studied  rather  the  style  than  the  purport  of  his  poetical 
works.  Others,  who  have  viewed  his  poems  as  a  whole,  and  have 
had  regard  to  their  purport,  as  well  as  to  their  fluent  versification, 
have  censured  the  poet  for  his  want  of  refinement,  and  for  such 
passages  of  inflation  or  bad  taste  as  are  found  in  his  Hitter  Karl 
Von  EichenJkordy  Frau  SchnipSj  *  the  Hape  of  Europa,'  and  even  in 
one  of  his  prettiest  lyrical  poems, '  the  Hamlet.'  But  however 
critics  may  differ  on  the  general  merits  of  Burger,  they  must  agree 
in  praising  his  melodious  versification  which,  though  it  has  the 
characteristics  of  ease  and  simplicity,  was  the  result  of  careful 
study.  Elopstock,  in  his  old  age,  when  talking  with  Wordsworth, 


xrnj  VOS&  245 

erpredsed  his  belief  that  Burger  was  a  more  genuine  poet  than 
either  Qoethe  or  Schiller.  This  strange  judgment  was  pronounced 
in  1798,  when  Schiller  had  published  his  finest  ballads. 

JoHAiw  Heinrich  Voss  (1751-1826)  the  best  scholar  among 
the  men  of  the  ^  Hainbund/  was  far  more  respectable  as  a  trans- 
lator of  Homer  than  as  an  original  poet.  He  wrote  in  tediaus 
hexameter  verses  a  long  idjll-epic  called  '  Luise  *  (1784),  which 
suggested  to  Qoethe  the  form  of  his  'Hermann  and  Dorothea.* 
In  other  respects,  these  two  poems  should  hardly  be  named  on  one 
page.  It  has  been  absurdly  said  that  the  notion  of  domestic 
'  comfort  *  is  peculiarly  English,  but  the  whole  purport  of  one  of 
the  idylls  of  Voss  is  to  expatiate  on  the  snug  and  soothing  circum- 
stances of  a  country  parson.  Voss  was  a  great  enemy  of  all 
romance  and  mysticism,  and  admired  a  dear,  didactic  tendency, 
such  as  is  well  adapted  for  catechisms  and  reading-books  in 
elementary  schools.  He  was  an  industrious  man  of  highly  respect- 
able character  and  scholarship,  but  was  intensely  prosaic,  and 
avoided,  not  only  everything  that  could  be  called  fantastic  and 
unreal,  but  almost  every  thought  that  would  rise  above  the  levei 
of  commonplace.  His  rural  epic  'Luise,'  is  divided  into  three 
idylls : — in  the  first,  a  walk  through  a  wood  is  described ;  then 
the  pastor  of  Grunau — the  heroine's  father — ^joins  his  family  in  a 
pic-nic  party  on  the  bank  of  a  stream,  and,  when  every  minute 
incident  of  the  excursion  has  been  tediously  described,  all  th& 
insipid  characters  return  to  the  vicarage.  The  second  idyll  is 
hardly  more  lively,  for  here  a  young  man  named  Walter  (of  whom 
we  know  nothing  more  than  that  he  is  betrothed  to  Luise)  pays  a 
visit  to  the  old  parson  of  Grunau  and  finds  Luiee  fast  asleep.  In 
the  third  idyll  Walter  and  Luise  are  married.  No  reason  what- 
ever is  assigned  why  the  reader  should  feel  sympathy  with  any 
of  the  characters  introduced,  for  they  are  hardly  distinguished  by 
more  than  their  names,  and  they  all  talk  the  same  commonplaces. 
Voss  was  proud  of  this  idyll-epic,  aud  preferred  his  own  creation, 
'Luise,'  to  Goethe's  heroine,  'Dorothea.'  'They  may  say  what 
they  please  in  favour  of  Dorothea,'  said  Voss,  '  she  is  not  my 
Luise,'  a  statement  ai'terwards  universally  accepted,  though  not 
in  the  sense  the  author  intended.  Voss  was  the  representative  of 
a  class  of  versifiers,  includiug  such  names  as  Neutler,  Koseffurten 
and'  Schmidt,  whose  chief  characteristic  was  their  extreme  home- 
liness.   Take  away  all  the  poetry,  humour  and  sentiment  from 


246  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUEB.  [Ck. 

some  passages  of  Goldsmith's  'Deserted  Yillage'  and  tlie  'Yicar 
of  Wakefield/  and  leave  only  some  descriptions  of  homely  articles 
of  furniture,  and  the  result  might  be  something  like  the  idylls 
written  by  Voss.  As  they  must  be  ranked  thus  low  in  art,  it  is 
pleasant  to  say  anything  in  favour  of  their  moral  purport.  They 
express  contentment  in  circumstances  of  moderate  prosperity,  and 
such  natural  piety  as  is  likely  to  be  fostered  by  a  general  sense  of 
comfort 

The  names  of  a  few  other  associates  of  the  'Hainbund'  might  be 
mentioned  here,  but  it  is  enough  to  say  that  they  hardly  rose  above 
mediocrity.  There  might  be  found  one  or  two  exceptions  to  tliis 
statement.  Johann  Anton  Leisewitz  (1752-1806)  wrote  one 
tragedy,  Jtditts  voti  Tarenij  which  was  praised  by  Lessing  and 
contained  some  passages  of  powerful  pathos.  Matthias  Claudiits, 
(1740-1816)  known  also  by  his  pseudonym  '  Asmus,'  wrote  several 
good  lyrics  expres.4ve  of  simple  pious  feelings,  such  as  are  found 
in  his  '  Evening  Hymn '  and  his  *  Peasant's  Evening  Song.*  Ills 
JRheinweinlied  is  national  and  popular. 

Enough  has  been  said  of  inferior  poetical  writers  to  indicate  the 
literary  tendencies  of  the  times  when  Goeth§  was  educating  him- 
self as  a  poet.  A  few  years  passed  away,  and  the  author  of  ^Gotz' 
and  *  the  Sorrows  of  Werther '  had  left  far  behind  him  the  wild 
nature- worship  of  his  youth,  and  had  produced  such  true  works  of 
art  as  'Iphigenia,* '  Egmont,*  *  Tasso,'  as  well  as  some  parts  'of 
*  Faust  *  and  many  beautiful  lyrical  poems  and  ballads.  Before  we 
attempt  to  give  an  account  of  this  second  period  in  Goethe's 
literary  biography,  it  may  be  well  to  notice  the  works  of  a  few 
prose- writers  belonging  to  the  earlier  part  of  the  period  1770-1830. 

Among  writers  of  harmless  and  amusing  fictions  JoHAirarMxrs^rs 
(1736-87),  the  author  of  many  stories  founded  on  old  popular 
legends  may  be  mentioned  with  some  prfuse  of  his  lively  and  fiuent 
style,  though  his  best  work,  a  series  of  Fairy  Tales,  has  been  cast 
into  the  shade  by  the  later  collections  of  old  popular  myths,  edited, 
as  Kinder-  und  Hausmdrchen,  by  the  brothers  Grimm.  On  the 
ground  that  harmless  fairy  tales  are  better  than  misrepresentations 
of  real  life,  wfi  may  leave  unnamed  many  empty  novels  and  wild 
romances  containing  neither  truth  nor  poetry.  A  romance  written 
in  the  form  of  *  Travels  in  the  South  of  France '  by  Moritz  Augitst 
TON  Thummel  (1738-1817)  was  distinguished  from  the  crowd  by 
its  lively  style,  and  by  some  true  observations  of  life  in  France, 


XVn.l  PEOSE  WEITBES.  247 

but  it  WBB  partly  based  on  Wieland's  notions  of  morals  and  con- 
tuned  some  imitations  of  Sterne's  '  Sentimental  Journey.' 

Another  imitator  of  Sterne  was  Thbodob  Gottlieb  tok  Hippel 
(1741-96),  the  writer  of  some  books  partly  narrati?e  and  auto- 
biographical but  mostly  didactic,  in  which  there  is  no  want  of 
versatile  talent,  though  order  and  clearness  of  arrangement  are 
utterly  neglected.  If  we  may  trust  HippeFs  biogmphers,  bis  life 
was  a  series  of  contradictions  and  in  its  want  of  logical  sequence 
was  like  his  writings.  To  gain  the  means  of  supporting  himself 
and  a  wife,  he  studied  law,  and  with  such  industry  and  success 
that  he  gained  what  might  be  called  wealth  in  his  times,  but 
instead  of  marrying,  as  he  had  intended,  he  contented  himself  with 
writing  a  book  *  On  Matrimony,'  in  which  he  laid  down  rules  for 
the  conduct  of  husbands  and  wives.  It  is  noticeable  as  being  one 
of  the  earliest  arguments  in  favour  of  'the  emancipation  of  women.' 
Imitation  of  Sterne  is  found  merely  in  the  erratic  form  of  Hippers 
works.  His  best  thoughts  were  borrowed  from  Kant,  whose 
lectures  he  had  attended.  The  eccentricity  of  Sterne  was  more 
closely  imitated  in  '  Tobias  Knaut,'a  strange  romance,  at  one  time 
falsely  ascribed  to  Wieland,  who  did  however  write  a  favourable 
review  of  it  The-  author,  Johakn  Ejlbl  Wszel,  who  wrote 
several  other  fictions  and  some  plays,  was  afflicted,  in  1786,  with 
a  delusion  of  the  most  extraordinary  nature.  He  placed  over  a 
series  of  his  own  works  in  his  library  the  inscription  Opera  Dei 
Wezelii,  retired  from  society  into  profound  solitude,  and  remained 
in  this  state  of  mind  until  his  death,  which  took  place  in  1819. 
It  was  characteristic  of  the  times  that  one  of  Wezel's  works  was 
ascribed  to  Goethe. 

Many  examples  might  be  quoted  from  the  novelists  and  romance 
writers,  of  morbid  thought  and  sentiment^  of  license  supposing 
itself  to  be  liberty,  and  of  extravagance  mistaken  for  a  proof  of 
genius.  The  chief  characteristic  of  numerous  productions  in  prose- 
fiction  was  their  total  want  of  union  with  practical  life  and  its 
realities.  The  words  sobriety  and  moderation,  when  applied  to 
literature,  were  in  these  times  regarded  as  severe  terms  of  reproach. 
One  of  the  most  extravagant  and  absurd  fictions,  *  the  Adventures 
of  Baron  Miinchhausen,'  may  be  named  here,  because  its  authorship 
has  been  falsely  ascribed  to  the  poet  Burger.  The  true  author, 
Rudolf  Erich  Raspe  (1737-94)  was  a  librarian  who,  after  com- 
mitting a  robbery  at  Cassel^  escaped  in  1775  tp  London,  where  he 


248  OUTLINES  OF  GEEOIAN  UTERATUEE.       •     [Ch. 

wrote  in  Englisb;  beside  other  books,  the  above-named  extrava- 
ganza, which  was  translated  into  German  by  Biirger  in  1787. 

In  leaving  the  department  of  prose-fiction  and  passing  to  that 
of  didactic  prose,  we  may  mention  a  narrative  writer  whose  works^ 
though  partly  imaginative,  were  doubtless  founded  on  realities. 
JoiLAJsrs  Heinrioh  Jmre,  otherwise  known  as  Stilling,  the  son 
of  a  poor  tailor  and  schoolmaster,  was  bom  in  1740.  After 
enduring  many  privations,  he  went  to  Strassburg,  where  he  became 
acquainted  with  Goethe,  from  whom  he  probably  received  some 
help  in  the  authorship  of  the  book  entitled  '  Heinrich  StilliDg*8 
Youth.'  It  was  so  successful  that  it  was  soon  followed  by  several 
other  stories  of  the  same  class,  all  mostly  founded  on  the  early 
experiences  of  the  writer.  There  may  be  some  doubt  where  fact 
ends  and  fiction  begins  in  these  stories,  but  the  individuality  of 
several  of  the  characters  introduced  leaves  no  doubt  of  their 
reality.  The  village  pastor  who  studies  alchemy,  and  becomes 
melancholy  in  his  old  age;  his  opposite,  the  surly  and  proud 
parson  who  keeps  a  ferocious  dog,  and  calls  his  parishioners 
clodhoppers  and  boors  j  Johann  Stilling,  the  genius  of  the  family, 
who  ponders  long  on  the  quadrature  of  the  circle,  and  grandfather 
Stilling,  who,  in  extreme  old  age,  climbs  cherry-trees  and  helps  to 
thatch  cottages ;  these  are  no  literary  inventions,  but  true  recol- 
lections of  the  author's  youthful  days.  The  trust  in  Divine 
Providence  so  often  expressed  in  the  stories  of  the  Stilling  Family 
was  the  chipf  trait  in  the  author's  own  character.  His  misfortunes 
served  only  to  confirm  his  faith.  When  his  failures  in  some  other 
endeavours  had  led  him  to  study  ophthalmic  surgery  and  when  he 
became  celebrated  for  his  successes  in  operating  for  cataract,  he 
felt  sure  that  Heaven  had  led  him  to  his  choice  of  a  profession. 
Though  a  Pietist,  he  was  neither  narrow  nor  bigoted.  With 
regard  to  both  his  breadth  of  sympathy  and  his  childlike  crednlityy 
he  might  be  classed  with  another  of  Goethe's  early  friends,  the 
eccentric  mystic,  pietist,  gossip,  preacher,  patriot  and  physiogno- 
mist, Lavater. 

JoHAKN  Easpab  Lavateb,  bom  in  1741  at  Ziirich,  was  an 
enthusiastic  preacher,  who  gained  his  literary  reputation  chiefly 
by  his  treatise  on  the  supposed  science  of  'Physiognomy.'  His 
lively  and  declamatory  style  and  his  firm  belief  in  his  own  skill  in 
detecting  the  characters  of  men  made  his  book  amusing.  As  the 
shrewd  satirist  Liohtenberg  said,  'Lavater  could,  find  more  eenso 


XVII.]  LATATEB.  249 

in  the  noses  of  sereral  authors  than  the  public  conld  find  in  all 
their  books.^  He  was  as  hardy  in  his  assertions  as  in  fulfilling  his 
duties  as  a  pastor  and  a  patriot.  When  Zurich  was  occupied  bj 
French  troops,  Lavater  preached  boldly  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
Directory  and  published  the  substance  of  his  discourses.  He  was 
engaged  in  reproving  the  violence  of  the  soldiery  in  the  streets  of 
that  town,  in  1799,  when  he  was  shot  by  a  French  grenadier. 
The  patriot^s  sufferings  were  severe,  and  he  was  not  released  by 
death  until  1801.  It  was  characteristic  of  the  times  that  Lavater, 
on  account  of  his  entibusiastic  piety,  was  suspected  of  being  asso- 
ciated with  the  Jesuits.  No  charge  could  be  more  absurd.  His 
errors  belonged  to  the  head  and  not  to  the  heart  He  was 
exceedingly  credulous  and  was  fond  of  gossip.  His  religions  works, 
of  which  an  indescribable  treatise  called  '  Pontius  Pilate '  is  the 
chief,  are  written  in  a  fluent  but  incoherent  scyle.  Perhaps  the 
most  amusing  of  all  his  books  is  his  (so-called)  *  Private  Diary,' 
published  in  1772,  full  of  confessions  of  such  sins  as  wasting  his 
time  on  light  literature  and  in  gossiping,  followed,  here  and  there, 
by  such  a  reflection  as,  ^  Do  you  call  this  living  for  eternity  ?  ' 
Lavater  was  acquainted  with  almost  all  the  leading  literary  men 
of  his  times,  except  Leasing,  and  loved  to  give  aid  and  encourage- 
ment to  every  good  movement  He  was,  in  short,  a  fanatic 
utterly  destitute  of  the  passion  of  hatred,  and,  if  only  on  that 
account,  would  deserve  to  be  remembered.  This  pious  man  was 
blade  a  butt  of  ridicule  by  a  clever  and  humorous  writer,  already 
named,  Geoboe  Lichteitbebg  (1742-99)  author  of  a  commentary 
on  the  works  of  our  great  painter  Hogarth.  Lichtenberg's  chief 
studies  were  scientific,  and  his  light  and  fragmentary  essays  were 
merely  his  recreations.  '  I  once  lived,'  he  says,  *  in  a  house  where 
one  of  the  windows  looked  into  a  narrow  shady  lane  running  from 
one  street  to  another.  Inhere  I  noticed  that  passengers,  on  stepping 
out  of  the  strong  daylight  of  the  street  into  the  dusky  little 
thoroughfare,  would  suddenly  change  their  expression.  The  man 
who  had  been  smiling  in  the  street  would  look  grave  when  he 
stepped  into  the  shade  of  the  lane,  or  the  demure  tradesman  would 
smile  slyly,  as  if  he  had  just  gained  the  advantage  in  a  bargain. 
Here  was  a  puzzle  for  Lavater.  Would  he  trust  the  face  in  the 
street  or  the  fia^e  in  the  lane  P '  This  may  serve  as  a  specimen  of 
the  satire  levelled  against  Lavater's  new  science  of  physiognomy. 
He  certainly  deserved  ridicule,  for  nothing  could  be  more  presump- 


250     .      OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  UTERATUBB.  [Oh. 

tuous  and  arbitrary  than  many  of  his  assertions ;  for  example,  the 
following  on  the  features  of  Jesuits :— * 

Let  a  Jesuit  disguise  himself  as  he  may,  a  skilful  ph3r8iognomist  will 
easily  detect  him  by  three  signs — ^the  forehead,  the  nose,  and  the  chin. 
The  first  is  generally  boldy  convex  and  not  angular,  but  rather  capacious  ; 
the  nose  is  commonly  large,  more  or  less  Boman,  and  has  a  strong  cartilage ; 
the  chin  is  rounded  and  prominent.  ...  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that 
among  so  many  Jesuits  who  are  men  of  great  erudition,  you  will  hardly 
find  one  truly  philosophical  head. 

Among  thewriters  of  criticism  who  were  associated  with  Herder 
and  Goethe  two  may  be  mentioned,  with  regard  rather  to  their 
personal  influence  than  to  the  value  of  their  writings.  Johank 
Gborg  SoHLOssBBy  bom  in  1730,  the  Mend  and  brother-in-law  of 
Goethe,  edited  a  critical  journal  published  at  Frankfort  (in  1772 
and  afterwards)  to  which  Herder  and  Goethe  were  contributors. 
JoHAinr  Hbinbich  Mebck,  bom  in  1741,  maintained  an  extensive 
correspondence  with  the  chief  literary  men  of  his  times,  and  exer- 
cised the  influence  of  a  teacher  over  his  junior  friend  Goethe,  on 
whom  he  impressed  one  maxim,. never  forgotten — that  a  man  of 
genius  needs  education.  Merck  was  very  unfortunate  in  his 
domestic  and  financial  affairs  in  the  later  years  of  his  life^  and 
perished  by  his  own  hand  in  1701. 

Of  the  merits  of  the  greatest  among  didactic  authors  in  these 
times,  Immanuel  Eant,  bom  in  1724  at  Eonigsberg,  no  adequate 
estimate  can  be  given  in  these  outlines  of  general  literature.  His 
metaphysical  doctrines  belong  to  a  closely  connected  system  of 
reasonings  begun  by  Hume  and  ended,  as  some  writers  have  said, 
by  Hegel.  By  the  publication  of  his  lectures  on  morals  and 
cesthetics,  Kant  made  a  great  impression  on  the  general  literature 
of  the  decennium  following  1781.  In  opposition  to  the  doctrine 
that  would  base  all  morality  upon  calculations  of  utility,  he 
asserted  the  authoritative  character  of  the  moral  principle  in  the 
conscience  of  man.  It  is,  as  he  contended  as  superior,  to  all  our 
likings  and  our  interests,  as  the  law  that  rules  the  solar  system  is 
superior  to  the  masses  which  it  governs.  'Two  things,'  said  Kant, 
'  flU  the  soul  with  wonder  and  reverence,  increasing  evermore  as  I 
meditate  more  closely  upon  them ;  the  starry  heavens  above  me, 
and  the  moral  law  within  me.'  He  goes  on  to  argue,  that  if  the 
moral  law  is  authoritative,  it  implies  the  existence  of  a  moral 
governor,  and  postulates  the  immortality  of  the  soul  and  a  future 


XVIL]  KANT.  251 

Btate  of  rewards  and  punisbments.  Hence  religion  is  inseparably 
united  with  ethics,  and  in  the  ratio  of  his  own  rise  or  fall  as  a  moral 
agent,  a  man*s  faith  in  God  must  rise  or  fall.  The  substance  of 
Kant's  ethical  doctrine  maj  be  found  in  the  sermons  of  Joseph  , 

Butler,  Bishop  of  Durham.  Wordsworth,  in  his  sublime  'Ode  to 
Duty/  had  probably  some  recollection  of  the  passage  above  quoted 
when  he  wrote  the  lines  :— 

Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong,  . 

And  the  most  ancient  heavens  through  Thee  are  fresh  and  strong. 

The  didactic  writings  of  Kant  served  to  refute  some  popular  ^ 

arguments  in  fayour  of  natural  theology  which  had  ^een  employed 
by  Reimarus  and  other  authors  of  the  rationalistic  school.    Man  \ 

cannot,  either  by  the  logic  of  his  own  understanding,  or  by  his 
searchings  throughout  nature,  ^find  out  God,'  said  Kant,  as  the 
writer  of  the  book  of  Job  had  said  in  old  times.  This  doctrine 
was  entirely  opposite  to  the  teaching  of  many  rationalists  and 
natural  theologians.  They  had  taught  that  clear,  religious  know- 
ledge might  be  obtained  by  a  study  of  nature,  and  /'jat  duty  was 
only  a  name  for  self-interest  well  understood.  Hence  Kant's 
ethical  teaching  excited  in  Berlin  and  elsewhere  the  controversy 
to  which  we  have  already  referred.  Of  his  three  chief  works ; 
the  *  Critique  of  Pure  Reason '  (1781),  the  '  Critique  of  Practical 
Reason '  (1787),  and  the  *  Critique  of  the  Faculty  of  Judgment ' 
(1790),  the  last  is,  perhaps,  the  best  example  of  his  style.  Kant's 
life  wa0  that  of  a  retired  thinker,  but  his  principles  were  not 
ascetic.  'Act  so  that  men  might  induce  from  your  example  a 
universal  rule  of  action,'  is  the  summary  of  his  ethics.  The  teacher 
who  laid  down  that  law  was  eminently  truthful  and  honourable 
in  his  own  practical  life,  and  was  as  remarkable  for  his  content- 
ment. He  was  never  married,  and  hardly  ever  left  his  native 
town,  where  he  possessed  a  small  house  and  a  garden  in  a  quiet 
street  He  had  no  large  library,  though  he  was  a  very  extensive 
reader,  especially  in  works  of  travels  and  geography.  His  patience 
could  grapple  with  the  long  noyels  of  Richardson,  and  he  admired 
Rousseau's  writings.  After  a  life  of  almost  uninterrupted  health 
and  quietude^  Kant  died  in  his  native  place,  February  12,  1804. 


252  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEEATUBE.  [Ce. 


/ 


CHAPTER  XVm. 
SEVENTH  PERIOD.    1770-1830. 

'eOHONT  — 'IPHIGENIA' — 'TAS8O' — 'HEBMAmr  AND  DOBOTHBA.' 

Not  soon  will  the  world  see  agidn  sucb  a  union  of  poetry  and 
art  with  practical  life  as  existed  during  the  half-cent ary  of  Goethe^s 
residence  at  Weimar.  The  town  and  its  neighbourhood  were 
improved  and  beautified ;  abuses  in  the  administration  of  law  were 
removed,  and  several  good  plans  of  political  reform  were  converted 
into  facts ;  men  of  genius  and  learning  were  saved  fipm  their  hard 
struggle  for  bread ;  the  universify  of  Jena  was  made  great  and 
celebrated,  and  the  poverty  left  by  war-  was  relieved.  Then  art 
and  literature  appeared  in  their  true  place^  not  as  substitutes  for 
work,  but  as  its  reward,  and  as  attendants  of  hours  of  leisure 
afforded  by  a  faithful  fulfilment  of  duties. 

QoETHS  had  already  obtained  a  wide  reputation  when  he 
accepted,  in  1775,  from  the  young  prince  Karl  August  of  Saxe- 
Weimar  an  invitation  to  his  court,  where,  in  the  following  year^ 
he  was  appointed  Counsellor  of  the  Embassy,  with  a  seat  and  a 
vote  in  the  privy  counciL  Thus  began  a  friendship  which  endured 
for  fifty  years.  Weimar,  with  its  pleasant  valley  of  the  Ilm,  its 
park  and  garden  at  Belvedere,  and  its  rural  retreat  at  Dmenau,  was  a 
charming  residence  for  a  poet  who  loved  both  work  and  repose. 
Here,  placed  in  independent  circumstances,  he  could  develope  his 
plan  of  writing  only  for  his  own  satisfaction  and  of  waiting  patiently 
for  the  world's  expression  of  its  judgment  How  much  both 
Goethe  and  Schiller  owed  to  the  retreat  and  quietude  they  enjoyed 
at  Weimar  can  liardly  be  estimated.  The  former,  though  no  servile 
courtier,  valued  highly  these  advantages  of  his  position.  '  What  has 
made  Germany  great,'  he  says,  '  but  the  culture  which  is  spread 
through  the  whole  country  in  such  a  nutrvellous  manner  and  per- 


XVniJ  •  ECatOKT/  253 

Tftdea  all  parts  of  the  realm  P  And  does  not  this  culture  emanate 
from  the  numerous  courts  which  grant  it  support  and  patronage? ' 
There  are  many  Germans  who  would  dissent  from  Goethe's 
conclusions.  Thej  must,  however,  admit  that  the  hest  works  of 
Goethe  and  Schiller  were  not,  at  first,  patronised  by  the  German 
people,  but  were  written  in  defiance  of  a  popular  taste  which  was 
satisfied  with  the  dramatic  writings  of  Kotzebue  and  Jffiand,  to 
say  nothing  of  '  Rinaldo  Rinaldioi '  and  the  rest  of  the  deplorable 
'  robber-rtmanoes '  of  the  time. 

Soon  after  he  had  removed  to  Weimar,  Goethe  began  to  write 
the  drama  of '  Egmont,'  founded  on  passages  in  the  history  of  the 
revolt  of  the  Netherlands.  It  has,  in  some  parts,  strong  popular 
and  political  interest,  but  its  chief  attraction  for  many  readers  is 
in  the  scenes  where  Egmont  appears  with  the  heroine  Clarchen. 
These  must  be  simply  described  as  charming,  and  were  evidently 
suggested  by  the  poet's  own  experience.  The  defect  of  the  drama 
is  that  Clarchen  caUs  the  attention  of  the  reader  away  from  the 
idea  of  liberty  to  which  the  hero's  life  is  sacrificed.  A  conciliation 
of  the  two  chief  motives  of  the  play  takes  place,  however,  in  the 
last  scene,  where  Clarchen  appears  as  the  Spirit  of  Liberty  and 
arrayed  in  all  the  charms  of  youth  and  beauty ;  but  the  mode  in 
which  this  is  efiected  is,  as  Schiller  observed,  more  suitable  for  an 
opeia  than  for  a  tragedy.  Egmont,  sentenced  to  death,  falls  into 
a  deep  sleep  in  the  dungeon.  In  his  dream,  the  walls  expand,  the 
place  is  filled  with  radiance,  and  the  brave  and  beautiful  maiden 
appears,  to  cheer  the  prisoner  with  a  prophecy  that,  by  his  deatii, 
he  shall  win  freedom  for  his  native  land.  This  dream,  externally 
represented  as  a  vision,  is  seen  by  the  spectators,  at  the  same  time 
when  it  appears  to  the  sleeper.  In  spite  of  its  operatic  conclusion, 
'  Egmont '  is  on9  of  the  most  popular  of  the  poet's  dramatic 
writings. 

In  the  course  of  rather  more  than  ten  years  after  he  began  to 
write  'Eginont,'  Goethe  produced,  beside  comedies,  operettas, 
lyrical  poems  and  ballads,  the  greater  part  of  the  didactic  romance 
Wtlhdm  MeUter9  LehrjahrBf  and  the  dramas  'Iphigenia'  and 
'  Tasso.'  Among  numerous  proofs  of  the  poet's  breadth  of  sym- 
pathy, hardly  any  can  be  found  more  remarkable,  than  that  he 
published  *  the  Sorrows  of  Werther '  in  1774  and  wrote '  Iphigenia ' 
(in  prose),  in  1779.  It  was  first  acted  in  the  Duke's  private 
theatre  at  Weimar ;  Goethe  took  the  part  of  Orestes,  and  Thoas 


/ 


254     OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.     [Ok. 

and  Pylades  were  re8pectiyely  represented  by  Von  Knebel  and  the 
Duke  Karl  Augiist.  The  drama  was  not  completed  in  Terse  until 
1786/ when  the  poet  was  travelling  in  Italy. 

Apart  from  all  confdderations  of  popularity  or  fitnem  for  thea- 
trical representation, '  Iphi^renia '  may  be  described  as  the  author's 
most  artistic  drama.  All  its  parts  are  closely  united,  its  motives 
are  clearly  developed,  and  one  consistent  tone  of  dignity  and 
repose  prevails  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  But  readers  who 
expect  stirring  incidents  and  loud  passion  in  a  play  may  find  the 
coldness  of  Greek  sculpture,  as  well  as  its  repose,  in  this  modem- 
antique  drama.  The  plot  chosen  by  Euripides  in  treating  the 
same  subject  is  considerably  modified  by  Goethe.  He  does  not 
r  make  Orestes  the  bearer  of  the  statue  of  Diana  from  Tauris  to 

Delphi,  for  this  would  haye  required  supernatural  agency.  Orestes 
comes  to  liberate  his  own  sister  and  succeeds  by  means  of  her 
truthfulness  and  ma;^animity.  The  heroine  is  a  woman  of  almost 
perfect  character.  At  one.  moment,  she  is  tempted  to  deceive  her 
friend,  King  Thoas;  but  she  soon  displays  the  truth  and  the 
gratitude  that  belongto  her  character,  and  this  noble  self-assertion— 
at  first  threatening  to  bring  ruin  on  herself  and  her  brother — Pleads 

to  the  conciliation  with  which  the  drama  concludes. 

* 

To  those  who  demand  vigorous  action  arising  from  external 
I  causes,  'Iphigenia'  must  seem  too  quiet     The  thoughts  and 

emotions  of  the  heroine  in  exile  take  the  place  of  action,  and 
are  expressed  rather  with  epic  repose  than  with  dramatic  energy. 
As  the  solitary  priestess  of  Diana,  she  mourns,  but  utters  no 
loud  lamentation.  Her  first  soliloquy  expresses  the  repose  of 
grief  and  resignation,  by  which  the  whole  of  the  drama  is  per- 
vaded :— 

Into  your  shadotrs,  *neath  your  tremalous  boughs. 

Old  consecrated  grove ! — ^from  ancient  times 

Made  sacred  to  the  goddesB  whom  I  serve — 

I  come,  not  fearless,  but  as  if  to-day 

I  stepp'd,  for  the  first  time,  into  this  gloom ; 

My  soul  is  still  an  exile  in  the  hind 

Where,  through  long  years,  and  far  fVom  all  I  love, 

A  will  above  mine  ovm  hath  bound  me  fast. 

She  deplores  her  destiny,  as  one  separated  from  all  whom  she 
loves,  and  stands,  lonely,  on  the  sea-shore,  where  only  the  low 
roar  of 'the  tide  gives  a  roply  to  her  sighs.     *  I  would  not  arguo 


XVmj  'TASSO/  255 

yrith  tlie  gods,'  she  says,  when. tempted  to  envy  the  power  and  the 
liberty  enjoyed  by  man  :— 

Within  the  state  and  on  the  battle-field 
He  rules,  and  far  from  home,  can  aid  himself; 
Possession  cheers  him,  victory  crowns  his  strife. 
Or  death  for  him  is  made  the  way  to  fame — 

With  such  a  destiny  she  contrasts  her  own  long  sufferings,  and 
her  words  rise  in  energy,  but  still  her  grief  is  dignified^  even  when 
she  addresses  to  Diana  the  prayer : — 

Deliver  me,  whom  thou  hast  saved  from  dAth, 
Now  from  this  second  death— my  lonely  life  I 

The  self-control  blended  with  grief  expressed  in  these  opening 
sentences,  governs  the  whole  progress  of  the  drama  and  leads  to 
its  beautiful  conclusion. 

In  1789  'Iphigenia*  was  followed  by  another  psychological 
drama,  *  Taaso,'  at  fii-st  written  in  prose  (1780-81),  and  completed 
in  iambic  verse  in  1780,  when'flie  poet  was  forty  years  old.  Its 
general  purport  was  the  extreme  opposite  of  all  that  had  been 
believed  in  the  wild  days  of  Sturm  und  Dratiff,  '  Tasso  *  repre- 
sents the  important  truth,  that  the  highest  genius  wants  a  moral 
as  well  as  an  intellectual  e.ducation.  'A  hundred  times,'  says 
Goethe,  *  I  have  heard  artists  boast,  that  they  owed  everything  to 
themselves,  and  I  have  been  often  provoked  to  reply,  '^  Yes,  and 
the  result  is  just  what  might  have  been  expected." '  The  central 
character  of  the  drama,  Tasso,  represents  enthusiasm  and  imagin- 
ative genius,  wanting  education,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word. 
The  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  poet  take  the  place  of  external 
incidents ;  in  other  words,  the  action  of  the  drama  is  intellectual 
and  emotional.  This  limits  the  interest  of  the  work,  but  not  so 
narrowly  as  might  be  supposed.  For  the  laws  of  moral  education 
to  which  even  genius  must  be  obedient  are  general,  and,  therefore, 
are  applicable  to  men  who  are  neither  poets  nor  artists. 

Tasso  was  twenty- two  years  old  when  he  came  to  Ferrara,  at 
the  time  of  the  duke^s  wedding-festival.  Here  Lucrezia  and 
Leonora,  the  duke*s  sisters,  treated  the  poet  with  great  kindness, 
and  encouraged  him  to  devote  himself  to  the  completion  of  his 
epic  poem.  The  patronage  enjoyed  by  the  poet  excited  the  envy 
of  inferior  men,  but  their  whisperings  could  not  have  hurt  him^  if 


7 


256  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

his  own  too-active  imagination,  excited  by  a  suspicious  temper, 
had  not  created  for  him  foes  who  had  no  real  existence.  After 
the  completion  of  his  epic,  and  during  a  visit  to  Rome,  he  yielded 
more  and  more  to  morbid  suspicion,  believing  himself  to  be 
everywhere  surrounded  by  enemies,  or  spies  sent  out  by  the 
Inquisition.  Thus  in  the  noon-day  of  his  fame,  dark  clouds  swept 
across  his  intellect,  and  the  gloom  grew  deeper  and  deeper.  On 
his  return  to  Ferrara,  after  aimless  wanderings  in  Mantua,  Padua 
and  Venice,  he  found  himself,  as  he  believed,  treated  with  cold 
contempt.  This  so  excited  his  anger  that  ho  spoke  violently 
against  the  duke  and  his  court,  and,  soon  afterwards,  was  declared 
to  be  insane.  He  was  placed  in  confinement  in  the  hospital  of 
St.  Anna,  where  he  remained  seven  years.  Though  he  regained 
the  use  of  his  faculties  and  wrote  sometimes  calmly  and  well, 
during  his  imprisonment,  the  duke  harshly  refused  to  grant  a 
release  until  1686,  and  then  it  came  too  late ;  the  malady  that 
might,  perhaps,  ha^e  yielded  to  a  milder  treatment  had  been  made 
incurable.  Tasso,  after  his  release,  wandered  about,  like  a  spectre, 
in  Home,  Florence,  Mantua,  and  'Naples,  nowhere  finding  a  place 
that  he  could  call  his  home,  nowhere  a  friend  in  whom  he  could 
confide.  When  his  majestic  figure,  with  pale  face  and  lustrous 
eyes,  passed  through  the  Italian  towns,  the  people  gazed  upon 
him,  and  said,  '  See,  that  is  Tasso.'  He  died  in  the  convent  of 
San  Onofrio,  in  1695. 

The  story  of  the  drama  includes  only  one  passage  in  the  earlier 
life  of  Tasso  at  the  court  of  Ferrara,  a  misunderstanding  existing 
between  the  poet  and  Antonio,  who  represents  a  man  of  the  world 
and  a  politician.  The  drama  opens  with  a  pleasing  scene  in  the 
duke*s  garden,  where  his  highnesses  sistera  are  making  vrreaths  of 
flowers  to  crown  the  busts  of  Virgil  and  Ariosto.  The  duke  joins 
them,  and  soon  afterwards,  Tasso  enters,  bringing  the  complete 
copy  of  his  epic, '  Goffredo,'  as  it  was  entitled  in  1676. 

Tauo  ffive*  the  book  to  Alfonso, 

Alfonto,  You  bring  me,  Tasso,  with  this  gift  delight. 
And  make  this  beauteous  day  a  festival. 
At  last,  I  have  the  poem  in  my  hand 
And  in  a  certain  sense,  may  call  it  mine. 

Tasso.  If  you  are  satisfied  the  work  is  done  | 
The  whole  belongs  to  you.    When  I  regard 
The  labour  of  the  hand  alone,  'tis  mine ; 


XVIII.]  •  TASSO/  257 

But  when  I  ask  what  gave  my  epic  song 
All  that  it  has  of  inner  worth  and  heauty, 
I  see  it  clearly;  'twas  bestowed  by  you. 
•  Though  nature  gave  to  me  the  power  of  song, 
How  ea^^ily  might  contradicting  fate 
Have  hid  from  me  the  face  of  this  fair  world  t 
£^  The  poverty  of  parents  might  have  cast 

t  A  dismal  gloom  upon  my  youthful  soul. 

And  if  my  lips  had  opened  then  to  sing, 
A  mournful  elegy  had  issued  forth 
In  tones  too  well  according  with  my  fate. 
Tou  saved  me  from  the  sorrows  of  my  home 
And  freed  my  soul  fh>m  care,  that  in  full  flow 
My  song  might  pour  forth  all  its  melody; 
^  All  that  I  have  3'our  bounty  gave  to  me^ 

And,  like  a  heavenly  genius,  you  delight 
In  me  to  let  the  world  behold  yourself.  • 

Aifonto,  The  beauteous  crown,  the  poet's  ngeed,  I  flee 
•     Here  on  the  forehead  of  your  ancestor ; 

He  points  to  VirgiTt  bust 

Has  chance,  or  some  good  genius  placed  it  here? 
Rethinks  I  hear  old  Virgil  saying  now : 
'  Why  deck,  with  verdant  coronals,  the  dead  ? 
jA  My  marble  image  is  adorned  enough. 

The  living  crown  becomes  the  living  poet.' 

Alfoiuo  beckons  his  sister,  who  takes  ike  erownfrom  VtrgiPs  butt,  and 

apptvaehes  Ttuso,  who  steps  back, 

Leonora,  Why  hesitate  ?    Whose  hand  bestows  the  crown  ? 
Ta^o.  How,  after  such  a  moment  shall  I  live  I 
Princess.  You  will  allow  me,  Tasso,  the  delight 
To  tell  you,  without  words,  all—all  I  think. 

He  kneels  down,  while  the  Princess  places  the  crown  upon  his  head,  and 

Leonora  applauds, 

»m  Tasso,  Oh,  take  it  off,  ye  gods !  and,  glorified, 

There  let  it  hang,  suspended  in  the  heavens, 
High,  inaccessible  I — let  aU  my  life 
Be  a  continual  aiming  at  that  mark ! 

At  thiq  moment  of  the  poet's  triumph,  wlien  the  princess  has 
*  crowned  him  as  her  laureate,  the  statesman  Antonio  arrives  at 

Ferrara,  and,  with  coldness  and  caution,  declines  to  share  in  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  moment,  but  takes  the  opportunity  of  expressing 
an  admiration  of  Ariosto.  When  Tasso  c<mtrasts  his  own  cha- 
racter with  that  of  the  man  of  practical  understanding,  ho  feels 
too  painfully  his  own  inferiority.  The  princess,  meanwhile,  hns 
resolved  to  unite  Tasso  and  Antonio  in  firm  friendship,  and  the 
poet  is  ready  to  obey  her  wishes,  though  he  is  not  patient  enough 

8 


258  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

to  make  use  of  the  means  required  for  winning  the  confidence  of 

the  calm  and  cautious  politician.    The  secret  of  Tasso's  failure  is 

that  he  is  not  contented  in  his  own  realm  of  poetry.    Genius  for 

him  is  not,  like  Tirtue,  its  own  reward,  but  is  accompanied  with 

an  ambition  to  gain  honours  in  society.  This  weakness  is  betrayed 

when,  in  the  course  of  a  conversation  with  the  princess,  he 

describes  the  impressions  received  on  his  first  arrival  at  the  coui  t 

of  Ferrara:- 

An  inexperienced  yoath,  I  hither  came. 
Just  at  that  time  vrhen  bright  festivities 
Made  tbb  Ferrara  glory's  central  light. 
.       O  what  a  spectacle  I  then  beheld  I 

A  circle  here  was  formed  around  the  space 
Where  knights  in  armour  shone — a  ring  so  bright 
The  8UQ  will  never  see  the  like  again  ! 
Th'e  fairest  ladies  and  the  bravest  men 
Sat,  all  assembled,  in  that  glorious  ring. 

.  •  •  •  . 

Then  when  the  lists  were  opened,  how  the  steeds 
Stamped !  shields  and  helmets  glittered  in  the  sun, 
While  piercingly  the  truppet's  blast  went  forth ; 
Then  lances  cracked,  and  shields  and  helmets  rang. 
And  whirling  clouds  of  dust  arose,  to  hide 
The  fallen  hero  and  the  victor's  pride. — 

0  let  the  curtain  fall  upon  a  scene 

That  makes  me  know  my  own  obscurity  I 

The  princess  speaks  of  her  own  recollections  of  that  time^  which 
are  well  contrasted  with  Tasso*s  glowing  description  :-^ 

That  glorious  festival  I  did  not  see ; 
But  iu  a  lonely  room,  where  died  away 
The  last  fiiint  echoes  of  aB  sounds  of  joy, 

1  sat  in  pain,  with  many  pensive  thoughts, 
And,  with  broad  wings,  before  me  hovered  then 
The  form  of  Death,  and  covered  from  my  sight 
The  scenes  of  all  the  varied  living  world. 

By  slow  degrees,  the  dark  cloud  passed  away. 
And  once  again  I  saw,  as  throuf^h  a  veil, 
The  varied  hues  of  life  shine  faintly  out, 
•     And  li\'ing  forms  about  me  gently  moved. 

When  the  princess  first  advises  Ta8S0  to  cultivate  the  friendship 
of  Antonio^  the  poet  thus  replies : — 

Though  all  the  gods  assembled  to  bring  gifts 
Around  the  cradle  of  this  sapient  man, 
Alas!  the  Graces  surely  stayed  away 
And  he  who  has  not  their  endearing  gifts 


XVm.]  •  TASSO.'  259 

May  be  a  wise  and  prndent  ooanBellor ; 
Bat  he  can  never  be  our  boeom-firiend. 

After  other  ezpressioiis  of  the  poet's  intolerance  and  defect  of 
sympathy,  the  princess  warns  him  of  the  danger  of  yielding  to  a 
mood  of  mind  tiiat  will  drive  him  into  solitude :— 

•  In  this  mood,  Tasao,  yoa  will  never  find 

CompanioDship  among  your  fellow-men. 
This  way  will  lead  you  through  the  lonely  woods. 
Through  the  still  valleys  of  secluded  thought, 
Where  more  and  more,  the  mind  falls  out  of  tune 
With  all  the  world  around,  and  strives  in  vain 
fo  find  within  itself  that  golden  time 
Which  in  the  outward  world  is  never  found. 

Tasio,  O  what  a  word  my  Princess  speaks  to  me  I 
That  golden  time-~ah !  whither  has  it  fled  ? 
For  which  the  heart  so  often  yearns  in  vain  t 
When  o*er  the  cheerful  earth  the  sons  of  men 
In  joyous  companies  with  freedom  strayed ; 
When  in  the  flowery  field  the  aneient  tree 
Shaded  the  shepherd  and  the  shepherdess ; 
When  o'er  the  purest  sands  the  water-nymphs 
Guided  at  will  the  clear  and  gentle  rills ; 
The  harmless  snake  wound  through  the  grass  his  way ; 
The  daring  fawn,  by  the  brave  youth  attacked, 
fled  to  the  wood,  and  every  creature  roamin(|^ 
And  every  bird  that  carolled  in  the  air, 
Proclaimed  to  men—*  Live  freely  as  you  please  t ' 

Princeat,  My  friend,  the  Grolden  Age  has  passed  ayray, 
And  yet  true  souls  can  bring  it  back  again. 
Tea,  to  confess  to  you  my  firm  belief^ 
That  golden  time  of  which  the  poets  sing 
Was  never  more  a  truth  than  it  is  now. 
Or,  if  it  ever  was,  *twss  only  so 
That  it  may  always  be  restored  again. 
Still  close  together  true  congenial  souls, 
And  share  the  joys  of  all  this  beauteous  world. 
But  let  me  dightly  change  your  law,  my  friend, 
And  let  it  be — *  Live  truly,  as  yon  ought.* 

A  common  tradition  tells  us  that  Tasso^s  unhappiness  arose  from 
an  affection  inspired  by  the  princess.  The  drama  partly  comhines 
this  romantic  story  with  the  true  biography  of  the  poet,  but  the 
princess  is  represented  as  addressing  Tasso  only  as  an  intimate 
friend.  Goethe  douhtless  remembered  that  she  was  no  longer  in 
her  youth,  when  he  represented  her  as  speaking  thus  of  a  friendship 
Buperior  to  any  passion : —  « 

82 


260  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUjaE.  [Ch. 


Beauty  is  perishable :  that  alone 

You  seem  to  honour  ;  all  that  can  endare 

Is  dead  for  you,  without  that  transient  charm. 

If  men  could  only  learn  to  know  and  prize 

All  the  dear  treasury  of  love  and  truth 

The  bosom  of  a  woman  can  enfold  : 

If  true  remembrance  might  renew  past  joys ;  ' 

If  but  your  glance,  which  seems  at  times  so  keen. 

Could  pierce  the  veil  that  age  or  sickness  casts 

O'er  beauty;  if  you  would  but  rest  contented, 

Then  happy  days  might  soon  for  us  appear 

And  we  should  celebrate  our  golden  time. 

A  bright  world  expands  itself  before  the  poet,  who  sees  all 
things  coloured  by  the  radiance  of  his  genius.  Assured  of  the 
affectionate  regard  which  the  princess  cherishes  for  him,  he  feels 
himself  restored  to  confidence  and  good-will,  and  he  is  ready  to 
embrace  even  his  suspected  foes.  But  though  a  splendid  poet,  he 
is  still  an  uneducated  man  He  Imows  not  how  to  make  prudence 
the  friend  and  supporter  of  genius.  Whatever  he  does  he  must  do 
as  he  writes  poetry,  by  inspiration,  disregarding  the  cold  rules  of 
actual  life.  He  forgets  that  all  men  are  not  just  now  in  the  glow 
of  enthusiasm  which  he  feels  after  the  completion  of  his  poem  and 
his  conversation  with  the  princess.  Determined  to  obey  her 
wishes,  he  resolves  to  make  an  ofier  of  friendship  to  Antonio.  The 
politician  receives  the  poet  coldly,  hesitates  to  return  the  offer  of 
friendship,  and  refuses  the  hand  stretched  out  Taseo's  feelings 
are  outraged  by  this  reception ;  and,  after  the  exchange  of  some 
satirical  remarks,  the  poet  draws  his  sword,  when  the  duke  steps 
forward  and  prevents  a  duel. 

The  princess  repents  of  her  plan  of  making  a  friendship  between 
the  statesman  and  the  poet,  and  Antonio  describes  Tasso  as  an 
intolerant  enthusiast: — ^At  one  time,'  says  the  statesman,  'he 
forgets  all  around  him  and  lives  in  the  world  of  his  own  thoughts ; 
at  another,  he  would  suddenly  make  all  the  world  obedient  to  the 
impulses  of  his  own  mind.'  Tasso  speaks  as  severely  of  the  states- 
man, whom  he  describes  as  a  stiff  pedagogue : — '  I  hate,*  says  the 
poet, '  the  imperious  tone  with  which  he  tells  you  what  you  know 
well  already.'  In  the  sequel  Tasso,  suspecting  that  the  duke  and 
his  sisters  ai'e  in  conspiracy  with  Antonio,  resolves  to  leave 
Ferrara ;  his  anger  finds  expression  in  declamation  against  his  best 
friends,  and  confirms  their  belief  that  he  has  lost  self-controL    He 


XVniJ  GOETHE  AND  TOIATICS.  261 

thus  consolea  himself  in  the  desolation  in  which,  as  he  imagines^ 
he  i8  to  he  left  for  ever : — 

One  gift  alone  remains- 
Nature  bestowed  on  man  the  foant  of  tears. 
The  cr^  of  anguish,  to  relieve  the  heart. 
When  more  it  cannot  suffer ;  and  to  me 
She  gave,  with  all  my  sorrows,  poetry. 
To  tell  the  deepest  fulness  of  my  woe ; 
And  while  in  anguish  other  men  are  domb^ 
She  gives  me  power  to  tell  the  grief  I  feeL 

At  this  moment,  Antonio,  coming  forward,  grasps  th^  hand  of 
Tasso,  and  with  the  sudden  reconciliation  the  drama  concludes. 

In  writing  these  two  dramas, '  Iphigenia '  and  '  Tasso/  the  poet 
liberated  himself  from  the  errors  of  the  first  period  in  his  deve- 
lopment, and  amended  the  crude  defects  of  form  which  are  found 
in  his  first  drama, '  Qotz  von  Berlichmgen,^  This,  however,  with  all 
its  faults,  was  recommended  by  its  national  character,  and  it  was 
a  disappointment  for  many  readers  when  Goethe  selected  antique 
and  foreign  themes. 

Critics  who  accuse  Goethe  of '  political  indifference,'  during  the 
time  of  the  French  Revolution,  should  remember  the  fact,  that  he 
endeavoured  to  understand  it,  though  he  could  not  be  hopeful 
respecting  itf:  results.  He  was  neither  '  an  apostle  of  liberty,'  nor 
a  blind  worshipper  of  rulers,  but  belonged  to  the  third  party,  if  we 
may  so  name  the  men  who  held  a  position  thus  described  by 
himself : — '  I  am  no  more  a  friend  of  the  revolutionists  than  I  am 
of  such  a  king  as  Louis  XV.  I  hate  every  violent  overthrow, 
because  as  much  good  is  destroyed  as  is  gained  by  it  I  dislike 
those  who  achieve  it,  as  well  as  those  who  give  cause  for  it' 

In  accordance  with  his  habit  of  putting  into  some  form,  more  or 
less  poetical,  all  the  events  that  were  parts  of  his  own  experience, 
Goethe  wrote  several  dramatic  works  having  reference  to  the 
political  movements  of  the  age.  In  the  Qros^-Cophtha  (1789)  he 
exposed  the  corruption  of  the  upper  classes  in  France,  and  in  the 
*  Citizen-G^eral '  (1703),  he  referred  to  the  influence  of  the 
French  Revolution  on  men  of  weak  and  imitative  minds  in 
Germany.  An  unfinished  drama  entitled  Die  Aufgerefften  ('  The 
Agitated,'  in  a  political  sensQ),  published  in  1703,  expressed  the 
writer's  belief  that  such  an  outburst  of  the  lowest  passions  as  had 
occurred  in.  Paris  could  never  have  been  made  possihle  saye  by 


262  OUTLINES  OF  GERliAN  LITERATURE.  [Ck. 

previous  unjust  gOTemment.  '  That  play/  said  Goethe,  *  may  be 
regarded,  in  some  measure,  as  my  political  confession  of  fSldth  at 
the  time.  ...  It  is  true  that  I  could  be  no  fiiend  to  the  EreDch 
Revolution,  for  its  horrors  were  too  near  me  and  shocked  me  daily 
and  hourly,  whilst  its  beneficial  results  were  not  then  to  be  disco- 
vered. But  I  was  as  little  a  friend  to  arbitrary  rule.  .  .  .  Revo- 
lutions are  utterly  impossible  as  long  as  governments  are  constantly 
just  and  vigilant' 

'Eugenie,  or  the  Natural  Daughter'  (1801) — a  drama  founded 
on  the  memoirs  of  the  Princess  Stephanie  de  Bourbon-Conti,  was 
intended  to  form  the  firet  part  of  a  trilogy — a  circumstance  that 
explains  its  slow  progression  and  want  of  dramatic  effect.  The 
whole  design,  of  which  only  a  part  was  completed,  would  have 
included  an  exposition  of  the  writer*s  views  of  the  movement  of 
1789.  The  plan  was  left  unfulfilled,  says  Madame  de  Stael,  when 
it  was  found  that  the  story  of  the  princess  was  discredited ;  more 
probably,  the  reason  was,  that  the  poet  was  not  in  love  vnth  the 
subject 

In  order  to  place  several  dramatic  works  in  an  unbroken  series, 
we  have  deferred  a  notice  of  one  of  the  poet's  best  productions. 
It  is  an  epic-idyll,  and  with  regard  to  its  extent  may  be  styled  a 
miniature,  but  its  interest  is  both  general  and  national. 

*  IIebhai^n  and  Dokothea  '  (1796-7)  is  a  poem  in  which  a 
simple  story  of  domestic  but  universal  interest  is  united  with 
national  events  arising  from  the  war  of  the  French  Revolution. 
These  incidents  are  well  placed  in  the  background,  and  there 
serve  as  dark  shadows  in  a  picture.  The  characters  are  few  and 
clearly  drawn,  and  one  ruling  thought,  the  triumph  of  love  and 
courage,  is  well  developed  throughout  the  story.  Its  foreground 
scenery  includes  only  a  small  rural  town  and  its  neighbourhood, 
but  in  the  background  are  seen,  in  shade,  bands  of  the  retreating 
French  soldiery,  who,  on  their  way  through  the  district  of  the 
Upper  Rhine,  plunder  farm-houses  and  drive  peasants  from  their 
dwellings.  A  great  historical  event  is  thus  connected  with  the 
plot,  and  gives  both  interest  and  importance  to  the  story,  while  its 
leading  characters  are  worthy  of  such  an  association  with  national 
events.  For  Herhani?,  the  hero,  is  honest  and  brave,  though  his 
character  is  hardly  defined  before  the  time  when  he  meets 
DoBOTHSA,  the  heroine,  whose  goodness  is  made  more  prominent 
than  her  personal  beauty,  while  her  misfortunes  deyelope  virtuee 


XVin.]  'HEKMANN  AND  DOROTHEA.'  263 

• 

truly  heroic,  yet  womanlike.  In  mentioning  one  trait  of  her  cha- 
racter, her  courage,  shown  in  slaying  a  marauding  soldier,  the  poet 
was  probably  guided  by  a  recollection  of  facts.  This  is  one 
exception  to  the  rule  otherwise  observed  well  throughout  the 
poem,  of  keeping  scenes  of  warfare  in  the  background,  and  covered 
by  a  cloud.  Out  of  the  darkness  of  that  doud  the  character  of 
the  heroine  shines  forth  with  the  brightness  of  a  rtunbow. 

The  beauty  of  the  style  aad  the  poetry  of  the  idj^U*  must  be  loj^t 
when  it  is  reduced  to  a  succinct  analysis  in  prose,  but  this  will 
convey  a  better  notion  of  the  story  than  could  be  expressed  by 
abstract  criticism.  We  give  therefore  the  following  outlines  of 
this  epic  in  miniature. 

The  harvest  is  ripe  for  the  sickle  in  a  fertile  valley  near  the 
Rhine,  where  a  band  of  emigr^ts,  driven  from  their  homes  in  the 
Upper  Rhine  district,  are  arriving.  They  are  led  by  a  venerable 
old  man,  and  stay  to  rest  themselves  in  a  village  a  few  miles 
distant  from  a  little  market-town.  Among  the  leading  men  of 
this  town  the  host  of  the  ^Golden  Lion '  is  a  prominent  figure. 
He  is  sitting  at  the  doorway  of  his  house,  in  the  market-place,  and 
though  grieved  by  the  tale  he  has  heard  of  the  emigrants  and  their 
distresses,  he  solaces  himself  by  thoughts  of  his  own  prosperity. 
'Tis  rare  fine  harvest-weather,'  he  says  to  his  wife;  'we  shall  get 
in  the  wheat,  I  hope,  as  well  as  we  secured  the  hay.  There  is 
not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and  a  soft  wind  is  blowing.  We  shall 
begin  reaping  to-morrow.  ...  I  never  before  saw  the  streets 
and  the  market-place  of  our  town  so  empty.  Hardly  fifty  people 
seem  to  be  left  in  the  town,  so  many  have  gone,  in  the  heat  of  the 
day,  to  see  these  emigrants  from  the  Upper  Rhine.  Well,  for  my 
part,  I  wiU  not  move  from  my  place  to  see  their  misery.'  But 
the  landlord  is  not  destitute  of  sympathy ;  he  has  sent  out  his  only 
eon,  Hermann,  to  carry  food  and  clothing  to  the  poor  people.  One 
of  his  neighbours,  an  apothecaiy,  though  a  man  of  narrow  sympa- 
thies, has'  been  out  to  aee  the  refugees,  and  now  oomes  back  to 
describe  their  wretched  circumstances.  He  is  an  egotist,  and  soon 
betrays  himself,  for  he  cannot  tell  the  story  without  a  prefatory 
reference  to  his  own  discomfort  in  seeing  misery.  This  feeling  is 
shared  by  the  host.  *  I  am  glad,'  he  says,  '  that  I  did  not  go 
myself,  for  I  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  distress.'  The  landlord,  with 
his  friends,  the  apothecary  and  the  curate,  refresh  themselves  with 
a  flask  of  Rl^ne-wine,  enjoyed  in  the  shade  of  a  cool  back-parlouxi 


264  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ck. 

where  '  no  files  iDtrude '  (q^  mine  host  says);  and  tbeir  talk  is  of 
the  events  of  the  times. 

When  Hermann  comes  home,  he  tells  his  story  of  the  pitiahle 

condition  of  the  emigrants.     *  On  my  way/  he  says, '  I  overtook  a 

waggon  drawn  by  a  yoke  of  oxen,  and  guided  by  a  brave  young 

maiden  who  came  towards  me  and  prayed  for  assistance,  not  for 

herself,  but  for  a  poor  woman  lying  upon  straw  in  the  waggon, 

and  clasping*  an  infant  to  her  breast.  J  gave  the  maiden  both  food 

and  clothing,  and,  when  she  thanked  me,  she  said,  '^  It  is  only  in 

such  misery  as  ours  that  we  see  clearly  the  hand  of  God  directing 

good  men  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of  the  unfortunate.*'  *    The 

tale  told  by  Hermann  suggests  timid  thoughts  to  the  apothecaiy, 

who  is  a  snug  bachelor.     '  Happy,'  says  he,  *  is  the  man  who,  in 

these  days  of  trouble,  has  neither  wife  nor  children  to  care  for ! 

I  am  glad  that  I  have  already  packed  away  the  most  valuable 

part  of  my  property.    No  one  runs  away  from  danger  so  easily  as 

a  single  man.'    Against  this  timid  sentiment  Hermann  makes  an 

earnest  protest.    '  I  do  not  agree  with  you,'  he  says,  *  for  many  a 

good  maiden,  in  these  days,  needs  a  protecting  husband.    How 

can  a  man  live  and  think  only  of  himself  ? '  This  bold  speech  gives 

pleasure  to  the  good  hostess  of  tlie  '  Golden  Lion,'  who  tells  the 

story  of  her  own  marriage  in  times  of  pecuniary  difficulty.    In  the 

conversation  that  follow9,it  appears  that  the  host,  like  a  man  who 

has  risen  in  the  world  and  wishes  his  son  to  rise  higher,  has 

cherished  a  hope  that  Hermann  may  select  as  a  wife  the  daughter 

of  the  wealthiest  tradesman  in  the  town.    ^  Yes,  Hermann,'  says 

the  father,  '  you  will  be  a  comfort  to  my  old  age,  if  you  bring  me 

a  daughter-in-law  from  a  certain  house^not  &r  off;  you  know  it 

welL' 

Unhappily,  the  father  and  the  son  have  never  been  able  to 
agree  on  the  merits  of  this  project.  The  son  frankly  confesses  that 
he  fails  to  appreciate  the  advantages  of  the  proposed  union,  and 
speaks  with  disrespect  of  the  showy  education  of  the  rich  trades- 
man's daughters.  This  arouses  the  father's  despotism,  and  the 
conversation  soon  becomes  so  unpleasant  that  Hermann  leaves  the 
house.  '  Go,'  says  the  landlord, '  headstrong  as  you  are.  Go  and 
see  to  the  fai-m-yard,  for  which,  by  the  bye,  I  do  not  thank  you. 
But  think  not  to  bring  here  any  low  coimtry  maiden  for  my 
daughtei^in-law  I  I  will  have  a  respectable  daughter,  one  who  can 
play  the  pianoforte,  and  I  will  have  all  such  respectable  company 


XVin.]  'HERMANN  AND  DOEOTHEA.'  2(>5 

as  my  neighbour  has  on-Sandays;  mmd  that! '  When  Hermann 
has  gone  out  the  father's  temper  becomes  cooler,  and  he  solaces 
himself  by  preaching  to  his  friends  on  ^he  important  duty  of 
constantly  studying  how  to  rise  in  the  world.  'What  must 
become  of  a  house^  or  of  a  town/  he  says, '  if  each  generation  does 
not  try  to  make  improvements  on  the  old  P '  Then  follow  severe 
remarks  on  the  son's  want  of  laudable  ambition,  and  these  call 
into  exercise  the  eloquence  of  the  hostess,  who  bravely  defends 
the  character  of  her  son ; — '  1  will  not  have  my  Hermann  abused/ 
she  says, '  I  know  he  has  a  good  heart,  and  that  he  will  rise  to  be 
an  honourable  man  and  a  pattern  for  our  townspeople/  So  saying, 
she  leaves  her  husband  to  continue  his  long  discourse  on  *  respeo- 
tability,'  and  goes  to  find  her  son  and  solace  him  with  kind 
words. 

The  conversation  continues  in  the  cool  back-parlour,  and  the 
apothecary,  studious  to  avoid  anything  that  might  offend,  ventures, 
nevertheless,  to  say  sonlething  in  favour  of  moderating  ambition. 
He  prefers  repose  to  'respectability,'  and  speaks  with  terror  of 
increasingly  expensive  habits.  '  In  old-fashioned  times,'  he  says, 
*  my  pleasure-garden  was  talked  of  all  through  the  neighbourhood ; 
every  stranger  stayed  to  look  through  the  palisades  at  the  two"* 
stone  figures  and  the  painted  dwarfs  there.  My  grotto,  too,  where 
I  often  took  my  coffee,  was  greatly  admired,  for  I  had  decorated 
the  walls  with  artistically  arranged  shells,  corals  and  spars ;  but 
who  cares  for  such  old-fashioned  things  now  P  I  should  like  to 
'go  with  the  times,  but  I  fear  to  make  any  changes,  for,  when  you 
begin^  who  knows  how  many  work-people  you  will  soon  have 
about  your  house  P  I  have  had  thoughts  of  gilding  the  figures  of 
Michael  and  the  Dragon,  in  front  of  my  shop,  but  I  shall  leave 
them  brown,  just  as  they  are.  The  cost  of  gilding  is  so  Mghtful.' 
So  ends  the  speech  of  the  cautious  and  conservative  apothecary. 

Meanwhile,  the  hostess  has  sought  her  son  in  the  garden  and  in 
the  vineyard,  and  finds  him  in  the  adjoining  field,  seated  in  the 
shadQ  of  a  pear-tree,  and  looking  towards  the  distant  blue  hills. 
He  looks  stem,  and,  in  reply  to  soothing  words,  talks  of  the 
war  and  of  the  miseries  of  the  emigrants.  *  What  I  have  seen 
and  heard  this  morning  has  touched  my  heart,'  says  he ; — '  shall  a 
Qerman  stay  at  home  and  hope  to  escape  the  ruin  that  threatens 
us  all  P  I  am  grieved  that  I  escaped  from  the  last  drawing  for 
soldiers.    I  will  go  now,  to  live  or  die  for  fatherland,  and  to  set  a 


266  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

good  example  to  other  youths.  I  will  return  to  our  house  no 
more.  From  this  place  I  go  to  give  to  our  army  my  hand  and  my 
heart,  .to  fight  for  our  native  land,  and  then  let  my  father  say 
again,  that  I  have  not  a  spark  of  honourable  pride  in  my  bosom  ! '  • 
The  sagacious  hostess  hears  all  this  and  more  to  the  same 
purpose,  and  admires  her  son's  enthusiasm,  but  she  will  not  believe 
that  he  is  inspired  only  by  patriotism.  With  tact  and  kindness 
she  leads  him  to  make  a  fuller  confession  of  his  motives  for  dis- 
obeying his  father's  wishes.  The  result  of  the  visit  to  the  emi- 
grants' camp  has  been  more  than  sympathy  with  their  misfortunes; 
Hermann  cannot  forget  that  brave  maiden  who  prayed  that  he 
would  have  compassion  on  her  companion.  When  the  mother 
feels  assured  that  this  is  no  dream,  but  an  impression  so  strong 
that  it  has  already  changed  her  son's  character,  she  resolves,  that 
the  domestic  warfare  impending  shall  be  waged  frankly  and 
boldly.  Having  returned  to  the  room  where  her  husband  and  his 
friends  are  still  drinking  Rhine-wine  and  talking,  she  tells  them 
all  the  truth  respecting  Hermann's  sudden  resolution.  The  father 
listens  with  silent  astonishment,  while  the  curate  takes  the  mother's 
part  and  deprecates  opposition.  '  A  moment  like  this,'  he  says, 
'  often  decides  a  man's  destiny.'  '  Make  haste  slowly  1 '  says  the 
timid  apothecary,  who  proposes  that  a  deputation  should  be  sent 
to  make  enquiries  respecting  the  heroine. 

Accordingly,  the  curate  and  the  apothecary  sally  forth  to  the 
village,  where  they  find  a  venerable  man,  the  leader  and  the  ruler^ 
of  the  company  of  refugees.  'He  is  like  a  Moses  leading  the 
wandering  people  through  the  wilderness,'  says  the  curate.  The 
old  man  tells  his  story  and  that  of  his  friends,  and  thus  the  plot 
of  the  epic  is  connected  with  history.  The  villages  from  which 
the  people  were  driven  were  plundered  by  a  retreating  army. 
'  Vanquished  soldiers,*  says  the  old  man, '  involved  all  things  in 
their  own  ruin.  May  I  never  live  to  see  again  men  so  maddened 
and  so  miserable  1  Let  no  man  talk  again  of  freedom  tmtil  he  is 
sure  that  he  can  govern  himself  I '  In  the  course  of  further  con- 
versation, the  veteran  tells  the  story  of  a  German  maiden,  who, 
left  alone  to  guard  children  in  a  farm-house,  repelled  several 
marauders  and  cut  down  one  of  them  with  a  sabre. 

Meanwhile,  the  apothecary  has  been  wandering  about,  until  he 
has  found  a  maiden  answering  to  the  description  given  of  Dorothea.  ' 


XVmj  *  HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA.'  267 

She  IB  seftted  under  the  shade  of  an  apple-tree,  and  is  engaged  in 
preparing  for  destitute  children  some  articles  of  clothing  given  by 
Hermann.  ^That/  says  the  old  man,  ^is  the  maiden  who  guarded 
the  farm-house,  and  she  is  as  good  as  she  is  brave  and  beautiful/ 
The  curate  and  his  friend  return  to  the  town,  bearing  a  highly 
favourable  report  of  the  results  of  their  enquiry,  and  soon  after- 
wards, Hermann,  unattended,  again  visits  the  encampment  of  the 
refugees. 

As  he  approaches  a  dear  fountain,  on  the  side  of  the  road 
leading  to  the  village,  he  sees  Dorothea  coming  to  draw  water, 
that  she  may  carry  a  refreshing  draught  to  the  invalid  woman. 
*  Thoughtless  people,*  says  the  maiden, '  have  allowed  their  cattle 
to  disturb  the  stream  that  flows  through  the  village,  but  J  am 
glad  that  I  have  come  so  far  to  find  pure  water,'  she  adds  frankly, 
'for  it  does  the  heart  good  to  see  the  face  of  a  friend.'  While  she 
is  speaking,  Hermann  notices  the  golden  ring  upgn  her  finger  that 
tells  him  she  is  already  betrothed.  She  explains  that  she  is  lefl 
desolate  in  the  world,  and  that  when  she  has  done  all  that  she 
can  for  her  friends,  she  would  be  glad  to  find  any  home  where  she 
might  be  serviceable.  The  result  of  all  that  she  tells  and  of 
Hermann's  fear  to  confess  the  whole  truth  is,  that  Dorothea 
resolves  to  accept  an  engagement  as  domestic  servant  at  the 
'  Golden  Lion.'  She  bids  farewell  to  the  mother  whom  she  has 
nursed.  '  When  you  look  on  your  child,\8ays  Dorothea,  *  when 
you  see  him  wrapped  in  this  comfortable  robe,  and  press  him  to 
your  bosom,  think  of  the  generous  youth  who  gave  us  the  clothing, 
and  who  now  takes  me  to  a  home  where  I  may  be  useful  and 
happy.'  Then  Dorothea  kneels  down,  kisses  the  woman  reclining 
on  the  bed  of  straw,  and  receives  a  whispered  blessing. 

Meanwhile,  the  report  given  by  the  curate,  and  the  pleadings  of 
tiie  hostess,  have  had  such  an  efiect  on  the  landlord  of  the  '  Golden 
Lion,'  that  he  can,  at  least,  tolerate  the  thought  that  Dorothea 
may  some  day  be  accepted  as  a  daughter.  He  is  again  sittmg  in 
his  retired  parlour  and  talking  with  his  neighbours,  while  the 
hostess  impatiently  awaits  her  son's  arrival.  When  Hermann 
'comes  homd,  he  calls  the  curate  aside  and  explains  that  the 
emigrant  maiden  enters  the  house  at  present  as  a  servant.  This 
explanation  is,  however,  too  late  to  prevent  the  pain  already 
given  by  a  remark  made  by  the  host,  as  soon  as  the  maiden  steps 


268  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ck. 

into  the  room.  He  suddenly  expresses  admiration  of  her  beauty, 
and  an  approval  of  Hermann's  choice  in  that  respect.  *  Your  son, 
sir/  says  Dorothea,  '  did  not  prepare  me  for  this  reception.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  I  stand  here  before  a  good  and  a  respectable  man, 
but  you  have  not  such  pity  as  you  ought  to^  have  for  the  poor,  or 
you  would  not  thus  remind  me  how  far  my  destiny  has  placed  me 
beneath  your  family.  I  come  to  you  as  a  poor  maiden,  with  all 
my  property  in  this  small  bundle.  Is  it  noble,  by  an  untimely 
jest,  to  drive  away  one  who  would  have  served  you  faithfully  ?  ' 

In  vain  the  curate  interposes  and  prays  Dorothea  not  to  be 
ofiended  by  a  joke.  It  is  not  a  mere  jest  that  has  so  deeply 
wounded  her  feelings.  She  has  been  more  than  grateful  towards 
the  youth  whom  she  calk  the  saviour  of  her  friends,  and  her 
feelings  have  made  her  too  ready  to  accept  service  at  the  '  Golden 
Lion.'  Now  she  sees  clearly  the  false  position  into  which  such 
sentiments  migM  lead  her,  and  is  resolved  to  stay  no  longer  in  the 
houde.  A  storm  has  suddenly  gathered,  and  the  rain  is  heavily 
falling,  but  she  hastens  to  the  door  and  is  turning  to  say '  farewell,' 
when  Hermann  steps  forward  and  makes  a  full  confession.  The 
curate  has,  meanwhile,  explained  the  misunderstanding  and  now 
offers  his  services  for  the  betrothal  of  Hermann  and  Dorothea. 
But  Hermann  again  looks  at  the  pledge  on  the  maiden's  finger 
and  still  fears  that  he  may  be  rejected,  imtil  Dorothea  is  persuaded 
by  the  curate  to  tell  alVthe  mystery  of  the  ring.  '  The  brave  youth 
who  gave  it  me,  some  years  ago,'  says  she,  '  went  away  to  Paris, 
there  (as  he  believed)  to  figbt  for  freedom,  and  there  he  felL 
''Farewell! "  said  he,  when  he  left  me,  ''all  things  are  moving 
now ;  laws  and  possessions  are  changing ;  friend  is  severed  from 
friend;  we  are  but  pilgrims  on  the  earth — ^more  so  now  than  ever  I " 
I  thought  of  his  words  when  I  lost  all  my  own  pix>perty,  and  I 
think  of  them  again  now,  when  a  new  life  seems  beginning  for  me. 
Forgive  me,  if  I  tremble  now,  my  friend,  while  I  hang  upon  your 
arm.  I  feel  like  the  sailor,  when  he  escapes  from  a  storm,  and 
first  steps  upon  the  land.* 

'  Thou  art  mine,  Dorothea,'  says  Hermann,  'and  all  tbat  is  mine 
seems  now  more  my  own  than  ever  it  was  before,  and  I  will  keep* 
it,  not  with  care  and  anxiety,  but  with  strength  and  courage.    So 
let  all  Germans  say,  "This  is  ours,"  and  boldly  assert  tbeir  rights  I 


XVin.]  'HERMANN  AND  DOROTHEA.'  269 

And,  if  ftll  Hn  of  017  mind,  we  »baU,  with  resolute  hearts,  oppoee 
the  foe,  vnd  our  natiTS  land  sh&ll  hme  peace.' 

Thils  the  poem  concludes,  as  it  opened,  with  a  refereDce  to 
national  arenti,  aod  the  unioD  of  the  hero  and  the  heFoine  is 
aseodated  with  the  prospect  of  national  unitj.  If  the  poet  had 
eTCT  incuired  just  ceasure  bjr  neglecting  to  write  in  a  patriotic 
spirit,  be  made  a  good  apology  by  writing  '  Heimaon  and 
Dorothea.' 


270  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  LTTEEATITEE.  [Ch. 


CHAPTER  XrZ.      ■ 
SEVENTH  PERIOD,    1770-183(K 

GOSTHb's  LTRICAL  Am)  OOCASIONAI^  POEMS — BON96 — ^BALLADS — ^RB- 
FEBBNOBS  TO  AX7T0BIOOBAPET — ODBS  —  BLBQIBS  —  SPiaSABU  A2n> 
OTHBB  DIDACnO  P0BM8. 

The  object  of  this  chapter  can  hardly  be  more  than  to  indicate  the 
extraordinaiy  variety  of  themes  and  modes  of  treatment  found  in 
Goethe's  minor  poems.    If  it  were  desirable  to  add  anything  to  the   • 
Yoluminous  criticism  already  bestowed  on  the  poei^  it  could  not 
be  reasonably  attempted  within  our  limits.     For  any  general  i 

remarks  which  we  may  venture  to  make  respecting  the  genius  of 
Goethf)^  the  reader  is  referred  to  a  subsequent  chapter.  Preceding 
analyses  have  already  told  something  of  the  wide  range  of  subjects 
treated  by  the  poet.  How  remarkable  the  tranation  from  Gotz — 
vigorous,  but  destitute  of  artistic  form — or  from  the  '  Sorrows  of 
,  Werther,'  to  the  dignity  of '  Iphigenia '  and  the  cheerful  epic  tone 
of '  Hermann  and  Dorothea '  I  Yet  only  a  few  phases  of  the  poet's 
variety  have  been  shown  )  we  have  still  to  mention  his  ballads  and 
lyrical  poems  and  his  unique  drama,  '  Faust.' 

There  is  great  difficulty  in  tlie  attempt  to  represent  in  any  form 
of  English  translation  th^  melody  and  the  charm  of  the  ballads 
and  lyrical  poems,  for  they  have  all  the  ease  and  freedom  of  nature 
in  their  happy  union  of  thought  and  expression.'  There  is  no  ^ 

apparent  elETort  and  no  rhetoric  in  these  poems.  Among  the  songs 
are  found  several  so  closely  united  with  music  that  they  must  be 
sung  to  be  appreciated.  -  They  are  melodious  expressions  of  life 
with  its  common  joys  and  sorrows,  and  aa  life  is  often  simple  and 
lowly,  several  of  these  lyrics  have  the  same  character.  For  a  taste 
so  confused  as  to  ask  for  dramatic  efiects  and  didactic  points  in  a 
lyrical  poem;  Goethe's  songs  were  Bot  written,  and  they  would  . 


XIXJ  GOETHFS  POEMS.  271 

certainly  have  failed  to  please  the  extinct  critics  who  ridiculed 
Wordsworth  for  using  in  poetry  the  language  of  common  life. 

Several  early  occasional  poems  on  ai%  have  a  reference  to  the 
poet's  own  attempts  in  painting  and  engraving.  His  boyhood  was 
partly  spent  in  an  atdier  in  his  father  s  house  at  Frankfort,  where 
painters  and  other  artists  were  frequent  visitors.  For  some  years 
afterwards,  in  Leipzig,  Dresden  and  elsewhere,  the  poet  continued 
his  studies  in  drawing,  etching  and  painting,  until,  as  he  tells  us, 
he  felt  convinced  that  he  could  rise  to  the  rank  of  a  master  in  only 
one  art,  that  of  writing  German  verse  and  prose. 

All  Qoethe's  minor  poems  may  be  called  '  occasional/  in  his 
own  free  sense  of  the  word,  and  several  are  so  far  autobiographical 
that  they  require  annotations  to  make  clear  their  numerous  refer- 
ences to  facts  in  the  poet's  life.  For  example,  a  poem  composed 
'  during  a  journey  in  the  Harz  Mountains,  in  winter  (1776),'  might 
at  first  sight  seem  like  a  fiction,  but  its  individuality  soon  assures 
us  that  it  is  founded  on  facts.  The  poet,  wishing  to  inspect  some 
mines  and  also  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  friend  in  depressed  health, 
availed  himself  of  an  opportunity  of  joining  a  winter  hunting 
party.  Leaving  his  companions  to  pursue  their  sport,  he  under- 
took a  lonely  journey  over  the  Brocken,  which  he  describes  in  the 

poem  i — 

Stonny  winds  arotind  him  blowing 
Serve  to  cheer  him,  upwards  going. 
The  torrent,  as  it  roars  along. 
Makes  music  for  a  matin-song, 
And  for  a  lofty  altar,  lo ! 
The  haunted  Blocksberg,  capp*d  with  snow, 
Where,  as  boors  and  miners  dream. 
Wild  spectres  in  the  moonlight  gleam. 

Other  parts  of  the  poem  would  be  hardly  intelligible  without  the 
biographical  fact^  above  stated.  It  is  important  therefore  that 
this  Hamreke  im  Winter y  with  other  occasional  poems  of  the  same 
class,  should  not  be  given  without  notes,  as  is  often  the  case  in 
selections  of  poetry  intended  for  general  use. 

Several  early  lyrical  poems,  including  not  a  few  amatory  songs, 
may  be  passed  by  with  the  remark  that  their  defects,  or  rather 
their  excesses,  belonged  to  the  days  of  Sturm  und  Drang,  when 
Goethe  wrote  also  his  wild  dithyrambic  '  Storm-song,'  described 
by  himself  as  a  *  half-crazy '  production.  The  following  is  an 
imitation  of  the  opening  lines  i-^ 


272  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATtJRK  [Oh. 

Geqins !  while  by  thee  attended. 
Neither  rain  nor  storm  can  daant  me, 
Fears  no  Jonger  haant  me. 
Genius !  while  by  thee  befriended. 
Singing  still,  I  face  rough  weather. 
Clouds  of  thunder  piled  together : 
Singing  still, 
As  over  the  hiU, 
'  The  lark  ia  singing ! 

For  a  full  interpretation  of  this  rhapsody  the  reader  is  refeired  to 
the  poet's  autobiography.  He  tells  us  that,  to  quell  the  sorrow  he 
felt  after  leaving  Strassburg  and  Sesenheim,  he  took  long  walks 
in  the  country,  without  regard  for  stormy  weather.  The  quasi- 
Pindaric  effusion  was  the  result  of  a  walk  under  heavy  rain.  Not 
long  after  writing  that '  Wanderer's  Storm-song/  the  poet  wrote 
a  dialogue. called  'The  Wanderer/  remarkable  for  its  antique 
dignity.  In  several  other  poems  of  about  the  same  date  (1771-4) 
he  delights  to  view  life  as  a  stormy  journey  and  in  one  of  them 
he  calls  *  Time '  a  '  postilion/  and  bids  him  ply  whip  and  spurs, 
that  life's  carriage  may  roll  on  swiftly,  over  the  mountain  and 
down  into  the  valley,  and  by  villages  and  lonely  hostelries,  where 
the  traveller  refuses  to  stay^  though  youth  and  beauty  invite  him. 
This  rhapsody  has  all  the  vigour  without  the  coarseness  .of  the 
days  of  Sturm  und  Drang. 

The  dithyrambic  audacity  of  that '  Storm-song '  is  exceeded  in 
another  poem,  'Prometheus,'  the  result  of  the  young  poet's  reading 
of  some  of  Spinosa's  works.  It  must  be  understood  that  these 
defiant  words  are  addressed  by  Prometheus  only  to  ZeuS;  the 
despot)  an  imaginary  creature  of  Greek  mythology : — 

Cover  thy  sky  with  clouds 

And — ^like  a  boy  who  smites 

The  heads  of  thistles- 
Display  thy  might  on  oaks  and  mountain  peaks  I 
3till  Thou  must  leave  for  me 
The  earth ;  my  hut — ^not  built  by  Thee  I 

And  this  my  glowing  hearth ;  its  cheerful  flame 

Excites  thine  envy ! 
*  •  *  •  * 

Here  sit  I,  forming  men  on  mine  own  plan, 
A  race,  like  me,  to  suffer  and  to  weep ; 
But  they  shall  also  prosper  and  rejoloe, 
And— -like  myself— K»re  nought  for  Thee  I 

That  the  solitary  and  defiant  mood  expressed  in  these  unrhymed 


XIX.]  OCCASIONAL  POEMS.  278 

lines  was  only  temporaTj,  is  easily  shown  by  a  reference  to  the 
hymns  entitled  respectively  *  The  Divine/  and  the  '  Boundaries  of 
Humanity.'  The  latter  is  an  expression  of  humility,  the  former 
asserts  only  what  Kant  and  Hegel  taught,  that  religion  must  he 
founded,  not  on  natural  theology  (so  called),  but  on  morality.  In 
the  following  passage  no  attempt  is  made  to  foUow  closely  the 
original  rhythm:- 

Let  man  be  magnanimous,    generous  and  kind  I 

Such  virtues  alone    can  make  him  distinct 

From  all  othisr  beings    of  whom  we  haye  knowledge. 

With  reverence  be  named    the  Higher  Powers 
Unknown,  of  whose  nature    we  have  but  forebodings 
In  whom  man  alone    can  make  us  beUeverSb 

For  Nature,  around  ns^    is  cold  and  unfeeling ; 
The  Sim  shines  alike    on  the  good  and  the  evil ; 
The  moon  and  the  stars    light  the  criminal's  path, 
As  well  as  the  way  of  the  just. 

The  themes  chosen  by  Goethe  for  his  songs  are  often  'as  old 
as  the  hills,'  but^  like  the  hillsy  are  ever  new  for  poets.  The 
forsaken  shepherd  stands  on  the  hill-side  and  looks  down  on  a 
deserted  cottage.  The  poet  teUs  all  the  shepherd's  sorrow  without 
the  use  of '  poetic  diction ; '  in  other  words,  just  as  the  swain  would 
have  told  it^  had  he  possessed  the  power  of  making  metre  and 
rhyme: — 

All  down  the  slope  descending,    and  following  my  sheep^ 
Along  the  valley  wending,    as  walking  in  nay  sleep, 

I  roam  along  the  meadow,    aU  gay  in  summer  bloom ; 

The  fairest  flowers  I'm  culling,    and  hardly  know  for  whom  % 

Or  sheltered  from  the  weather,    there,  in  a  misty  gleam, 
I  see  a  hut  deserted,    'tis  all  but  like  a  dream — 

And  o'er  the  roof  a  rainbow    for  others  bright  and  fair, 
But  not  for  me  I  the  maiden,    no  longer  dwelling  thesB^ 

Has  wander'd  o'er  the  monntain,    it  may  be,  o'er  the  sea  I 
Sheep  I  leave  the  flowery  meadow ;    'tis  sorrowful  for  me  I 

In  another  song,  the  Jagers  AhendUed,  we  have  the  same  theme, 
but  treated  with  new  harmonies,  for  it  is  now  the  hunter  who 
tells  his  sorrow,  and,  instaad  of  the  meadow  in  the  valley,  the 
tree  and  the  deserted  cottage  in  the  rainbow's  gleam^  we  have 


274  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEBATURE.  [Ch. 

for  scenery,  the  still  moon  sliimng  on  the  ridge  where  the  game 
easily  escapes  from  the^  dreaming  Jiiger : — 

As,  lone  and  wild,  along  the  fell 

In  search  of  game  I  stray, 
The  form,  the  face  I  love  so  well 

Attend  me  on  my  way.  •  .  « 

Dost  Thou  behold  in  dreams  the  man 

Who  wandersi  east  and  west. 
And,  while  so  far  away  from  thee. 

Can  find  no  place  of  rest? 

Another  song  may  he  briefly  noticed  as  an  example  of  Goethe's 
simplest  lyrical  poems  written  for  music.  It  is  hardly  treated 
with  fairness  when  taken  out  of  its  place  in  the  operetta  '  Erwin 
and  Elmire.'  There  it  is  sung  hy  Erwin  in  a  garden  where  the 
roses  are  hlighted. 

I  remember,  love,  with  sadness. 

When,  to  win  a  smile  from  yon. 
Every  mom,  I  brought  with  gladness 

Boses  wet  with  morning  dew.  .  .  . 

Now,  no  more  your  charms  displaying, 

Flowen  my  love  refused  to  wear  I 
Roses — ah,  so  soon  decaying— 

Fade  and  die !  for  I  despair. 

Among  other  lyrical  poems  that  partly  lose  their  effect  when 
given  in  an  isolated  form,  Mignon's  Song,  'Know'st  Thou  the 
Land  P '  (in  Wilhdm  Meister)  may  he  noticed.  It  strictly  helongs 
to  the  story  of  an  exiled  Italian  girl,  wandering  ahout  with 
strolling  players  in  the  cold  North  and  longing  for  her  home.  We 
must  know  something  of  the  singer  hefore  we  can  feel  all  the 
pathos  of  such  words  as  these  : — 

Know  you  the  land  where  citron-trees  are  growing? 

In  leafy  shade  the  golden  orange  glows, 
A  softer  wind  is  from  the  blue  sky  blowing. 
And  near  the  bay  the  lowlier  myrtle  grows. 
Know  you  the  land  ? — 

Tis  there! 'tis  there  I 
Tint  I  woold  go  with  thee,  my  love ! — 'tis  there  I 

Goethe's  occasional  poems  include  songs,  dithyramhic  odes^ 
elegies,  ballads,  epigrams,  and  parahlas.  With  regard  to  their 
subjects,  it  may  he  asserted,  that  a  selection  containing  only  a  few 


XIXJ  GOETHM  VABIETY.  275 

poems  from  each  of  the  above  clafises  would  indude  such  a 
Yiiriety  of  thoughts  and  sentiments  as  could  hardly  be  found 
elsewhere  in  so  small  a  compass.  For  here  we  have  the  many 
moods  of  mind  characteristic  of  a  writer  who  was,  at  once,  a  poet, 
a  man  of  science,  an  observer  of  practical  life,  and  a  lover  of  art 
The  varied  metres  and  forms  of  his  minor  poems  accord  with  the 
Tariety  of  their  themes.  Here  lyrics  as  simple  as  the  songs  already 
noticed  are  followed  by  odes  of  antique  grandeur,  and  by  ballads 
ranging  in  style  from  wild  romance  or  caricature  to  epic  interest 
and  dignity.  Of  the  ballads  and  other  poems  written  to  satirize 
literary  follies  one  or  two  specimens  may  be  noticed.  There  was 
a  lime,  near  the  dose  of  the  last  century,  when  German  fiction 
could  not  be  mentioned  without  suggesting  robber-romances, 
ballads  of  'diablerie'  and  'tales  of  terror.'  We  have  seen  how 
rapidly  Biirger*8  wild  balUd  of  '  Leonora/  masterly  in  its  kind^ 
won  a  wide  popularity,  and  that  fSor  inferior  pieces  were  read  with 
aTidity.  On  the  whole,  Goethe  in  early  life,  showed  a  wholesome 
aversion  from  the  horrors  of  powerful  sensational  writing,  and  to 
turn  them  Into  ridicule  wrote  two  or  three  such  caricatures  as 
'  The  Skeletons*  Dance.'  A  few  lines  are  enough  to  show  that  he 
might,  perhaps,  have  excelled  both  Schubart  and  Biirger  in  this 
odd  department  of  literatue.  However  absurd,  it  must  be  repre- 
sented here,  and  Goethe's  euicatuie  may  serve  to  set  aside 
quotations  from  inferior  writers  :^- 

The  warder  lookB  down  from  the  tower  at  nighty 

On  the  churchyard  asleep  in  the  moon's  pale  UfjkL  •  •  • 

Ha !  can  it  be  real  ? — the  graves  open  all, 
And  the  skeletons  come  to  their  midnight  ball ! 

Bone  clatters  to  bone ;  legs  find  their  own  feet» 

And  balls  with  their  sockets  ail  readily  meet ; 
For  dandDg  the  shrouds  are  too  lengthy  and  wide^ 

60,  to  make  tripping  easy  and  steady. 
On  tombstones  and  graves  they  are  all  oast  aside^ 

And  now  for  the  ball  we  are  ready. 

Then,  ha  I  what  a  dance  in  the  churchyard  lone  t 
And  oh,  what  a  datter  of  t)one  upon  bone  I 


•  •  • 


The  warder  grows  meny ;  he  runs  down  below 
And  one  of  their  winding-sheets  seizes.  •  •  • 

t2 


276  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

One  mLsses  bis  shroud.  There  it  hangs  on  the  tower  t 
He  must  have  it  before  the  bell  tolls  the  next  boor.  •  • 
He  climbs  up  the  turret  on  crocket  and  scroll 

('Tvras  Gothic  with  rich  decoration) 
He  climbs  like  a  spider ;  the  warder,  poor  soul ! 

Is  quaking  in  dire  perturbation ; 

For  up  comes  the  skeleton  I  sure  not  to  stop 
Until  his  claws  grapple  the  thief  on  the  top. 
With  terror  the  warder  is  white  as'a  smock. 

When  luck  the  poor  fellow  releases ; 
The  bell  thunders  'one,'  and— thrown  down  by  the  Bhock<~ 

The  skeleton  tumbles  to  pieces  1 

Anotlier  caricature^ '  Muses  and  Graces  in  the  Mark/  a  sort  of 
pastoral,  should  be  mentioned,  as  it  serves  to  explun  our  brevity 
in  noticing  several  writers  of  homely  idylls.  They  belonged  to  a 
school  of  which  Voss  was  the  head-master,  while  Schmidt  (a  rural 
pastor  who  lived  in  a  district  called  the  Mark)  was  one  pi  the 
more  advanced  pupils.  He  was  a  lover  of  extreme  simplicity  and 
lowliness  of  both  thought  and  expression.  Without  this  reference 
to  the  class  of  poems  satirized  in  the  pastoral  above  named,  it 
might  seem  strange  to  find  among  Goethe's  lyrical  poema  such  a 
stanza  as  thid : — 

By  their  rules  let  critics  try  ufi^ 

Still  we  never  care  a  jot; 
For  we're  natural  and  pious. 

And  contented  with  our  lot. 

Several  of  Schmidt's  ovm  poems  are  more  ridicalona  than  this. 
It  is,  indeed,  more  like  a  fair  imitation  than  a  parody  of  the  style 
in  which  the  good  pastor  in  the  Mark  wrote  of  the  pleasures  of 
rural  life.  For  satire  in  a  better  style  we  nmy  turn  to  a  ballad 
entitled  Der  ZauherlehrUng  (<The  Magician's  Apprentice'),  an 
excellent  union  of  apparent  levity  with  good  teaching.  There  is 
nothing  directly  didactic  in  the  story,  but  the  thought  suggested 
has  importance  both  for  life  and  art  The  tale,  borrowed  from 
Ludan's  ^cXoifrev^^Ci  tells  that  Eukrates,  a  pupil  in  magic,  whose 
master  was  Pankrates,  stole  by  eavesdropping  half  of  one  of  the 
master's  secrets,  a  formula  of  incaatation  by  which  a  besom  may 
be  suddenly  converted  into  a  kobold  or  sprite  who  is  employed  as 
a  water-carrier.  When  his  services  are  no  longer  required,  three 
words  can,  at  once,  reduce  him  to  his  primitive  condition.  The 
sequel  shows  the  danger  attending  a  half-knowledge  of  any 


XIX.]  '     BALLADS.  277 

buainess.  Eukrates,  'left  alone^  calls  into  activity  the  water- 
carrier,  whose  services  are  only  too  zealous.  He  fills  the  bath,  but 
still  pours  in  one  pail  of  water  after  another  until  the  house  is 
flooded.  The  apprentice  has,  like  a  demagogue,  excited  a  movement 
over  which  he  has  no  control,  and,  for  want  of  skill,  has  now 
recourse  to  violence.  He  seizes  a  sabre  and  cuts  the  kobold  in 
twain,  but  this  only  makes  the  case  worse,  for  there  are  now  two 
kobolds,  both  pouring  water  into  the  house  as  fast  as  they  can^  until 
Eukrates  screams  out  in  his  despair : — 

See  them  runnings  coming,  going, 

Poaring  water,  faist  and  faster  I 
Over  all  the  rooms  'tis  flowing, 

Apd  they'll  drown  me.    O  good  master  I 

Hear  me ;  and  in  this  disaster, 
Help  me  I — Sprites  compelled  to  aid  me 
Thus,  in  spite,  have  disobeyed  me. 

As  examples  of  the  poet's  most  artistic  ballads,  two  written  in 
1797,  'The' Bride  of  Corinth,'  and  < The  God  and  the  Bayadere,' 
must,  at  least,  Ji)e  mentioned.  The  painful  subject  of  the  first  was 
taken  from  the  '  Wonderful  Stories  *  of  Trftllianus,  a  Greek  writer 
of  the  second  century.  This  choice  of  a  subject,  the  stoiy  of  a 
vampire,  has  been  severely  censured,  and  it  has  been  especially 
noticed  as*  inconsistent  that  a  writer  who  condemned  the  medieval 
legend  of  '  Poor  Heniy,'  the  leper,  should  select  a  more  repulsive 
narrative. '  '  The  God  and  the  Bayadere '  is  a  Hindoo  legend,  and, 
as  treated  by  Goethe,  is  remarkable  for  the  dramatic  interest  of 
the  sCbry  and  the  varied  melody  of  the  veisification. 

The  best  of  the  ballads  are  those  of  which  an  artistic  translation 
is  difficult.  It  would  be  comparatively  easy  to  give  the  substance 
of  a  few  of  the  more  didactic  poems  written  in  the  poet's  declining  * 
years,  but  these  cannot  serve  as  fedr  examples  of  his  powers  as  a 
lyrical  writer.  The  ballad  of  the  'Treasure-Digger'  may  be 
pointed  out  as  a  medium  between  the  free  and  sometimes  wild 
poetry  of  youth  and  the  didactic  sobriety  of  age.  Here  the  story 
has  a  moral,  one  of  the  best  in  the  world,  but  the  narrative  interest 
is  not  sacrificed  to  the  moral,  and  the  latter  is  not  repeated  like  a 
maxim  in  a  boy's  copybook.  Urged  to  desperation  by  extreme 
poverty,  the  treasure-digger  comes,  at  the  dark  hour  of  midnight, 
to  make  a  con^ct  with  'the  enemy'  so  often  encountered  in 
German  ballads.    The  magic  circle  is  duly  drawn,  and  the  requi- 


278  OUTLINES  OF  GBKMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ca. 

site  incantations  are  cbanted,  when,  instead  of  tlie  fiend,  a  bright 
light  appears,  and  in  the  niidet  of  it  a  boy,  the  Qenius  of  Indostrj, 
cheerfCd  and  rosy  as  Cupid.  He  brings  a  bowl  filled  with  a 
refreshing  beveragey  and  thus  adyises  the  misguided  digger  for 
hidden  treasure  :-^ 

Prink  I  and  now,  prepared  for  labour. 

Ton  shall  learn  your  true  yocation  .:— 
Come  no  more  with  vain  endeavour. 

Here  to  tiy  your  incantation ; 
Dig  no  more  fbr  hidden  treasure  t 

Better  far  than  conjuration 
Weeks  of  care  with  days  of  pleasure. 

Toil  relieved  by  recreation  I 

The  following  Terses  should,  perhaps,  hardly  be  classed  with 
the  didactic,  for  their  moral  is  as  latent  as  the  little  flower  of 
which  they  tell  a  story : — 

As  in  the  wood  I  stray*d,    a  flower  I  chancM  td  spy ; 
Within  the  leafy  shades    'twas  like  a  deep-blue  eye. 

*  1*11  gather  you/  I  said ;    the  violet  seemM  to  say, 

<  Ah,  why  so  soon  must  1    be  cull*d  and  thrown  away  ? ' 

■ 

'  I'll  take  your  rootlets  fine,    and  in  my  garden,  near 
My  cottage,  youll  be  mine,    and  bloom  fbr  many  a  year.' 

The  youthful  period  in  the  development  of  Goethe's  poetic 
genius  may  be  said  to  have  closed  about  1783,  when  he  wrote  his 
meditative  poem  on  '  Ilmenau,'  a  place  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Weimar  to  which  the  poet  and  his  friend  the  archduke  loved  to 
retreat  from  the  cares  of  public  life.  In  this  interesting  retro- 
spective soliloquy  Goethe  speaks  of  the  excitements  of  former 
years  as  if  they  belonged  to  a  remote  past.  The  love  oi  repose 
that  prevails  throughout  the  poem  is  more  concisely  expressed  in 
an  impromptu  of  about  the  same  date.  It  was  at  first  written 
with  a  pencil  in  a  summer-house  on  the  Kikelhahn,  a  high  hiU 
near  the  Smenau  valley.    The  following  is  a  paraphrase  :-* 

Hush'd  now  is  every  wild  bird's  lay 
In  the  day's  calm  close ; 
The  trees  are  all  asleep  ;  how  still 

Is  the  light  green  leaf  on  the  topmost  spray 
And,  list  as  you  will,  you  hear  not  a  trill 
In  the  woodland  lone. 
O  wait,  my  soul  I  and  soon,  repose 
Like  this  will  be  your  own. 


N 


XIX.]  •         ELEGIES.  279 

Wlien  it  is  said  that  the  poem  on  '  Ilmenau '  marlrs  a  transition 
from  youthful  inspiration  to  studious  and  artistic  writing,  the 
assertion  must  not  he  too  strictly  understood^  for  the  poet  gare 
proofs  of  a  studious  and  refined  taste  hefore  1783 ;  witness  the 
dialogue  entitled  ^  The  Wanderer/  written  in  1772.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  must  he  noticed  that  the  transition  made  was  not  one  of 
an  extreme  character.  It  aifected  the  form  and  the  style  more 
than  the  essential  character  of  the  poet's  writings.  Neither 
Goethe  nor  Schiller  ever  forgot  all  the  sensual  and  sentimental 
tendencies  of  the  literature  belonging  to  the  days  of  Sturm  tmd 
Drang,  Schiller's  play  of  WaUenstein  is  injured  by  the  long  and 
sentimental  love-episode  of  Max  and  Thecla.  With  regard  to 
Gh)ethe's  more  sensuous  poetry,  we  can  only  briefly  refer  to  the 
blame  incurred  by  the  freedom  of  expression  found  in  some  of  his 
minor  poems,  especially  in  the  'Roman  Elegies/  written  in  1768-9, 
after  his  second  visit  to  Italy.  In  other  respects,  they  belong  to 
the  poet's  classical  works,  and  may  be  compared  with  the  elegies 
of  Propertius  and  Tibullus.  These  '  Roman  Elegies/  so  named 
with  respect  to  their  form  and  versification,  though  their  tone  is 
cheerful,  are  at  once  antique  and  original.  To  their  antique  form 
the  writer  ascribes  no  inconsiderable  virtue,  for  he  confesses  that 
'  if  they  had  been  written  in  the  metre  and  the  style  of  Bynfti's 
''Don  Juan,"  their  import  would  have  been  thought  infamous.' 

No  apology  of  that  kind  is  required  for  three  beautiful  elegies, 
'Alexis  and  Dora,'  'Amyntas/  and  '  Euphrosyne,'  all  written  in 
1796-7.  The  first  is  truly  described  by  Schiller  as  one  of  the 
finest  of  Goethe's  poems.  The  third  was  written  on  the  decease 
of  Christiane  Becker,  an  actress  who  had  lived  at  Weimar,  and 
had  been  educated  under  the  care  of  Goethe,  while  he  was  director 
of  the  theatre  there.  The  elegy  '  Amyntas '  may  be  noticed  as  a 
good  specimen  of  antique  versification. 

The  classic,  elegiac  metres  to  Which  such  a  powerful  charm  was 
ascribed  by  the  poet  were  also  employed  in  the  'Venetian 
Epigrams/  written  in  1790,  when  he  went  to  Venice,  to  accompany 
the  Duchess  Amalia  on  her  homeward  journey  from  Italy.  These 
epigrams  are  less  cheerful  than  the  '  Roman  Elegies.'  '  I  have 
never  since  been  so  happy  as  I  was  in  Italy  in  1786-7,'  said 
Goethe.  In  Rome,  at  that  time,  he  forgot  both  Germany  and 
France,  with  all  their  unhappy  politics  \  in  Venice  he  expresses  a 
want  of  sympathy  with  '  the  grand  movement '  of  the  age,  and 


280  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cii. 

rails  against  the  '  apostles  of  freedom/  and  other  Tisionaries^  but 
also  against  priests  and  rulers.  Several  of  these  Venetiiui  epigrams 
are  as  audacious  as  anything  written  by  the  poet.  It  is  hard  to 
giye  well-translated  specimens,  for  their  metres  and  their  meanings 
cannot  coincide  in  English.  The  import  of  two  or  three  of  these 
may,  therefore^  be  given  in  prose : — 

'  Why  talk  yon,  O  Poet,  of  yagabonda,  tnmbleis,  andb^gan,  as  if  yon  knew 
nothing  of  good  society  ?  * — *  I  have  aeen,  in  tlie  coarse  of  my  life^  respecta- 
ble people,  suggesting  no  thought  for  an  epigram  or  for  a  sonnet.* 

The  fuiatio  gains  many  disciples  and  stirs  up  the  people ;  the  moderate, 
rational  man  may  coont  all  his  fHends  on  his  fingers.  Wonder>working 
pictures  [of  saints']  are  mostly  Tile  danbe ;  fine  works  of  genius  and  art  are 
not  for  the  many. 

'All  may  be  clearly  explained,' — ^so  a  student  tells  me — *  by  a  new  theory 
taught  by  our  master  to-day : ' — *  When  you  have  hammered  together  the 
beams  of  your  cross,  then  you  can  torture  thereon  whatever  body  you 
choose. 

Other  epigrams,  collectively  entitled  'The  Predictions  of  Bakis ' 
(1708),  and  a  series  given  under  the  title  of  '  The  Four  Seasons,' 
may  be  named  here.  The  former  are  rather  mysterious ;  the  latter  -i 

include  one  of  the  finest  of  the  poet's  epigrams^  which  is  placed 
la^  in  the  following  translations  :— 

When  the  clouds  burst,  as  freely  streams  the  rain 
On  the  bare  rock  as  on  the  gifuay  plain. 
The  field  is  soon  revived,  thn  rock  soon  dried ; 
*With  life  alone  the  gifts  of  God  abide. 

'  Why  am  I  transitory,  O  Zeus  ? '  asked  Beautt,  and  he  replied : — '  Be- 
cause I  make  only  that  beautiful  which  is  transitory.'  When  LovB,  and 
the  Flowebs,  and  the  Dew,  and  Youth  heard  the  sentence,  all  went  away 
weeping  firom  the  Olympian  throne. 

*  What  is  holy  ?' — ^That  which  unites  many  souU  as  one,  though  it  binds 
them  as  lightly  as  a  rush  binds  a  garland.  '  What  is  holiest  ? ' — That 
which,  to-day  and  for  ever,  more  and  more  deeply  felt,  more  and  more 
closely  unites  the  souls  of  men. 

This  last  epigram  is  a  summary  of  Goethe's  notions  of  religion. 

In  1796-7  Goethe  and  Schiller  were  partners  in  writing  four 
series  of  epigrams.  The  first — entitled  Tabtda  Votiva — contains 
maxims  and  results  of  experience  in  life  and  art ;  the  second,  col- 
lected Under  the  inscription  Viden,  and  the  third — at  first,  in- 


XIXL]  EPIGRAMS.  281 

scribed  Einer  in  Schiller^s  Mwenalmanach — ^wcre  both  iz&serted 
by  Goethe  in  hia  own  collected  works,  under  the  title,  '  The  Four 
Seasons.'  This  was  done  in  accordance  with  an  agreement  made 
\\utli  Scbillur.  The  fourth  seiies — the  Xenien — includes  many 
satirical  and  personal  epigrams  written  as  replies  to  some  un- 
favourable critiques  on  articles  published  in  Schiller's  literary 
journal,  Die  JSaren.  The  two  friends  wrote  their  epigrams  on  a 
plan  of  such  close  co-operation,  that  it  is  impossible  to  select  all 
the  Xenien  th*at  belong  to  Goethe.  Such  men  as  Layater,  Nicolai, 
Manso,  Friedrich  Schlegel,  and  some  dull  commentators  on 
Kant's  philosophy,  were  chosen  as  objects  of  satire,  and,  in  some 
of  the  epigrams  bearing  the  names  of  German  towns  and  rivers, 
the  supposed  charactenstics  of  the  people  of  several  districts  are 
noticed. 

The  minor  poems  of  Goethe  which  were  written  during  his 
youth  are  as  original  and  vigorous  as  those  that  belong  to  his 
second  period— that  of  his  middle  life — when  he  paid  more  at- 
tention to  rules  of  art.  In  his  later  years  he  becomes  didactic, 
and  reminds  us  often,  that '  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can 
work;'  but  his  meditations  on  mortality  are  not  gloomy. 
'Remember  to  live,'  is  the  .maxim  he  makes  most  prominent,  even 
when  his  topics  are  mutability  and  death.  It  is  to  recommend 
the  culture  of  art,   that  he  thus  writes  of  the  transitions  of 

nature : — 

With  every  shower  the  valley*  change ; 

Yoa  cross  the  selfsame  brook  no  more  ; 
The  river,  in  another  bed. 

Is  gliding  by  another  shore  1 

The  castled  crags,  the  palace  walls 

No  longer  can  your  wonder  raise ; 
No  longer  with  a  yonthiiil  eye 

Along  their  battlements  you  gaze ; 
And  where  is  now  the  rosy  lip 

That  stole  the  kiss — the  first — so  sweet  ?  - 
And  where  the  foot  that,  on  the  hill. 

Was,  like  the  wild-goat's,  sure  and  fleet? 

We  have  still  to  notice  one  more  striking  example  of  the 
poet'^  versatility — his  *  West-East  Divan,'  written  mostly  in  1814, 
and  suggested  by  Hammer*s  translations  from  the  Persian  poet 
Ilafiz.    As  the  title  indicates,  the  '  Divan '  is  a  union  of  European 


X 


282        ocnmES  OP  amaws  UTEBATimE.        [Oe. 

thoughts  with  Oriental  forms  of  poetry.  It  was  hardly  to  be 
wondered  at,  that  Goethe,  when  almost  seventy  years  old,  found 
recreation  and  repose  in  this  new  style  of  writing;  but  it  was 
absurd  that  such  young  poets  as  Kiickert  and  Platen  could  find 
in  all  Goethe's  writings^  nothing  more  worthy  of  imitation  than 
the  <  West-East  Divan.' 


PAUST/  283 


CHAPTER  XX 

SEVENTH  PERIOD.    1770-1830. 
*  fattst/ 

Theri  are  a  few  poems  that  Are  as  remarkable  for  the  attractive 
power  of  their  subjects  as  for  their  literaxy  merits.  The  master- 
thought  of  'Prometheus  Bound'  might  have  given  success  to  a 
play  written  by  a  poet  inferior  to  iSschylus.  "Without  a  word  to 
detract  from  the  poetic  merits  of  Cervantes,  it  may  be  said  that 
the  world-wide  fame  of  his  great  romance  is  partly  owing  to  the 
happy  choice  of  a  subject  **  But  a  theme  of  far  wider  and  deeper 
interest — the  myth  of  Faust — haunted  the  mind  of  Goethe  from 
youth  to  old  age.  Had  he  treated  the  story  with  less  power,  it 
might  still  hare  been  subcessful ;  for,  while  its  form  and  many  of  its 
details  are  intensely  German,  its  interest  is  universal.  It  is 
founded  on  a  fact-rthe  duality  of  human  nature. 

The  poet  wrote  some  paris  b?  JPaust  as  early  as  1774,  and,  in 
the  following  year,  read  them  to  IClopstock,  who  liked  them 
well.  Other  scenes  were  added  in  1777*^;  in  1790  the  first 
part  was  published  as  a  fragment,  and  in  1806  as  completed.  The 
second  part — begun  as  early  as  1780 — ^was  not  completed  until 
1831 — a  few  months  before  the  close  of  the  poet's  earthly 
Ufe. 

Differences  of  critical  opinions  and  controversies,  to  which  parts 
of  the  drama  have  given  rise,  must  be  merely  alluded  to  here ; 
iat  any  attempt  to  interpret  such  obscurities  as  may  be  found  in 
the  second  part  would  far  exceed  the  limits  of  these  t)utlines.  '  It 
is  therefore,  to  the  principal  subject,  and  to  those  scenes  that 
are  most  closely  connected  with  it,  that  our  attention  must  be 
confined. 

The  common  notion  of  Faust,  the  magician,  which  was  cir- 


284  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

ciliated  by  the  crude  old  legend  and  the  Ihippetupiel  (both 
noticed  ante  in  Chapter  X.)  must  be  here  diamiseed.  Faust,  as 
Ooethe  has  represented  him,  is,  both  originally  and  finally,  a 
man  of  noble  and  generous  aspirations,  and  throughout  a  series  of 
trials,  is  represented  as  guilty  of  only  one  dark  sin.  His  repen- 
tance is  not  described  at  length,  but  is  both  expressed  and  implied. 
The  deaths  of  Valentine  and  the  heroine's  mother  are  results  of  a 
plot  in  which  Faust  is  an  unconscious  accomplice.  These  points  in 
the  story  should  be  noticed ;  otherwise,  readers  who  exaggerate 
the  guilt  of  Faust,  as  implied  in  the  first  part  of  the  drama,  might 
regard  the  earlier  scenes  of  the  second  part  as  both  inconsequent 
and  heartless.  In  the  first  scene  of  the  play,  the  hero  shows  the 
better  side  of  his  character.  He  has  found  out  that  the  sup- 
posed sciences  to  which  .he  has  devoted  his  studies  are  mere 
delusions  and  can  afford  no  aid  to  mankind;  he  therefore  de- 
nounces them  at  once,  and  will  teach  them  no  longer.  If  the 
pedant  Wagner  (who  is  introduced  as  a  contrast  to  Faust)  had 
had  the  wit  to  make  the  same  discovery,  he  would  have  kept  it  a 
secret,  and  *  for  a  profit'  (to  use  his  own  words)  would  have  per- 
sisted in  '  leading  poor  students  by  the  nose.' 

In  dismissing  the  common  notion  of  Faust*s  depravity,  we 
must  not  err  on  the  other  side,  or  imagine  that  he  is — like  Job~ 
'  a  perfect  man.'  He  is  an  egotist,  though  he  does  not  even  sus- 
pect it.  His  egotism  is,  however,  by  no  means  of  the  baser  kind, 
but  assumes  the  form  of  intellectual  pride  and  ambition.  *  Two 
souls,'  he  says, '  are  striving  in  my  breast ;  each  from  the  other 
longing  to  be  free.'  The  first  includes  the  common  passions  pf 
men ;  the  second  is  a  vague  and  restless  aspi»|jpn  for  the  pos- 
session of  unbounded  knowledge  and  power.  vWhen  pride  and 
ambition,  however  refined,  are  admitte^  into  the  heart,  envy  and 
hatred  will  not  long  be  absenti  bat  Faust  never  succumbs  to  the 
power  of  these  lower  passions.  They  are  kept  separate  from  the 
essence  of  his  character,  and  this  separation  is  powerfully  re- 
presented by  the  poet,  by  calling  into  existence  a  distinct  character 
— Mephistopheles  (or  Mephisto,  as  he  is  called  in  the  old  legend). 
Stripped  of  all  his  grotesque  features  and  his  mythological  dis- 
guise, he  is  simply  an  intensely  bad  man ;  one  in  whom  envy  and 
hatred  are  predominant.  In  truth,  Faust  and  Mephistopheles 
ft^  -pnet  just  as,  in  ancient  Persian  mythology,  Ormuzd  and 
ArimancB  were  one  before  time  existed  j  but,  for  poetic  purposes, 


N 


XX.J  'FAUST/  285 

the  light  and  tbe  darkness  t^  aepflrfttad.  yid  the  hip^hey  na^fiurA  nf 

FgBftt.ift  piftmi  in  rlftwr  nppftritign.  to  tj)i{)lQy.ffliflftteejsejar8flfinted 
in  the  perenn  of  MopliistupkoleR  -  In  the  exposition  of  the  drama, 
f^ust  binds  himself  to  his  own  lower  nature ;  in  the  development, 
he  strives  more  and  more  to  liberate  himself^  and  he  at  last  suc- 
ceeds. As  he  Tij><^  tnwftr<lft  frQgdP"'j  ^jlP  ^*^^Cf>  ^tiWfifin  n?^ 
^'Tiur^^^ft^f'^  trn^  thflf^-rf  hi?  ^fampnTiirr*— ff^  hfl  rfillg  h'g  •. 
enemj^instgasea^tJUitil  death  make^  th^  separation  perfect  and  ^ 
eveilasting.  On  the  other  hand,  the  character  of  Mephistopheles, 
as  it  is  made  more  and  more  distinct  from  that  of  Faust^  becomes 
also  more  and  more  darkly  shaded.  Tl^e  fiend  <>^ppftflrs  <f^  fi»t^ 
aa  a  cynical  aatiriai^  |nd  not  withgy^  hjimour  ^itUtJULthaJBtoiy 
proceeds^  he  is^  de.8Qd]).Qdw  flfl-A  jugglftTi  a-flftTCefer^  ajadl juiuuderer. 
He  is  Satan,  without  anj  disguise,  in  the  midst  of  infernal  revela 
ontheSlocEsberg;  and,  at  the  close  of  the  drama,  his  character 
appears  still  worse ;  though  this  might  seem  impossible.  \  He  is, 
at  last,  what  a  man  remains  when  every  noble  aspiration  has  left 
hjjB^ 

These^  preliminary  notes  on  the  two  chief  characters  of  the 
drama  may  help  to  render  the  following  outlines  of  the  story 
clear.  For  the  sake  of  brevity,  the  '  Prelude  in  the  Theatre ' 
must  be  passed  over  with  few  words,  though  it  contains  both 
humorous  and  beautiful  passages,  and  clearly  indicates  the  poet's 
personal  sympathy  with  the  destiny  of  Faust.  The  Theatre- 
•Poet  is  an  ided^,  with  an  ambition  above  his  vocation;  he 
would  write  *  for  posterity,'  of  whom  *the  manager  wishes  never 
to  hear  another  word.  Both  he  and  his  friend,  the  MerrHOaaiU 
are  realiata  and.piactioal  men,  who  insist  upon  it  thaFthe  Poet 
shall  insert  in  the  play  a  considerable  amount  of  folly,  in  order  to 
amuse  the  multitude,  and  increase  the  profits  of  the  theatre.  The 
llimiQur  of  this  prelude  is  strongly  contrasted  with  the  beginning 
of  the  '  Prologlie  in  Heaven,'  which  immediately  follows. 

The  prologue  opens  with  a  song  in  heaven,  where  three  arch- 
angels— ^Raphael,  Gabriel,  and  Michael — sing  severally,  and  then 
unite  in  harmony  with  '  the  music  of  the  spheres.'  This  form  of 
introduction  is  obviously  founded  on  the  opening  of  the  book  of 
Job,  and  the  song,  with  its  chorus,  was  probably  suggested  by  the 
text  (in  chapter  xxxviii.  of  that  book),  speaking  of  the  time 'when 
the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy.'    The  three  archangels  describe  the  sun  and  the  planets 


286  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATTTRB.  [Ok. 

as  ever  pooling  forth  divine  harmony  while  carried  along  around 
their  eternal  centre.  The  tranBlatioD  of  this  song  into  EngKsh 
presents  a  problem  which  has  led  to  several  laudable  attempts,  but 
hardly  to  one  perfect  success.  The  solution  may  be  impossibfe, 
when  the  highest  artistic  form  of  translation  b  demanded.  If  it 
/  -  be  required  that  a  version,  exactly  representing  the  meaning  of 

the  original,  shall  also  have  corresponding  metre  and  rhymes,  and 
shall  seem  to  be  so  easily  done  as  to  read  like  original  verse,  the 
problem  becomes  too  complex.  The  last-named  condition,  the 
art  concealing  art,  is  indispensable,  yet  can  hardly  be  fulfilled 
without  a  sacrifice  of  some  minor  merits.  The  following  atanzaa 
*        give  nothing  better  than  a  paraphrase  of  the  original : — 

Raphael. 

With  pace  of  thunder  rolls  along 

The  Son,  in  concord  never  ending 
Still  chanting  a  primeval  song, 

With  tones  from  all  the  planets  blending ; 
The  Angels  from  the  glorious  sight 

Derive  their  power  and  inspiration. 
And  all  the  wondrous  works  are  bright  • 

As  in  the  morning  of  creation. 

Gabriel. 

There  rolls  the  earth — so  swift  and  bright  !•— 

And  changeful  day  and  night  attend  her. 
As  out  of  gloom  of  awful  night 

She  turns  to  Paradisian  splendour ; 
While  foams  the  sea^broad  waves  npthrowing 

On  rocky  barriers  deep  and  strong— 
And  rocks  and  billows,  onward  going, 

Are  carried  with  the  spheres  along; 

Michael. 

And  tempests  blow,  in  emulation, 

From  sea  to  land  and  o'er  the  main. 
And  form,  through  all  their  pertorbation,      • 

A  circling,  energetic  chain ; 
There  flames  the  lightning's  devastation^ 

And  thunders  roll  along  its  way  ;— 
But  we,  O  Lord,  with  veneration. 

Behold  thy  calmly-changefUl  day. 

The  Three  Archanobxa 

The  vision  gives  us  Inspiration, 
Though  no  oile  comprehend  Theb  mi^^ 

And  all  the  works  of  thy  creation 
Are  bright  as  in  the  Primal  Day. 


XX.]  •  FAUST.'  287 

•  Thifl  gprand  declamlion  of  Eternal.  Divine  Ppif^^r  is  followed  by 
its  ezfreme  opposite. 

Among  tlie  heavenly  host,  assembled  to  proclaim  that  all  the 
works  of  the  Lord  are  glorious,  there  presents  himself  the  spirit 
whose  bad  will  leads  only  to  negation  and  destruction;  the 
^  Arimanes '  of  old  Persian  mythology,  the^^^^gataa '  of  the  vene- 
rable book  of  Job.  He  will  say  nothing:  agftinflt  the  ylory  pf  the 
sun  and  the  stars,  but  he  asserts  that  Man.  mth  aU  his  pride  of 

'MiyprflP'i^  w)>^'tf'  ^^  tiy^  In  the  conversation  that  follows  tJiis 
assertion,  the  leading  thought  of  the  drama,  that  evil  is  permitted  | 

to.  exist  only  as  a  condition,  sine  qud  wm.  of  energetic  lilC^  is 

'^-         m       I-    -,>f^— »<a*w'»»iMn—»*iww^i.-c.»fcM».r — i    .    ^..^.^ -•^.-^..j.- 
expresseo.     iWftph T atnpl^^^ga^  the  gemus  of  envy  and  negation, 

receives  full  permission  to  tem£t  I^ustjbut  the  final  defeat  of  the 
{empierls  predicted. 

We  now  descend  to  the  earth.  Here  Faust,  a  gray  professor  in 
a  German  university,  is  seated  at  his  desk  in  a  narrow  and  high- 
vaulted  gothic  chamber,  while  the  moon  pours  her  light  through 
the  window.  He  is  surrounded  by  books,  old,  dusty  parchments, 
and  some  instruments  of  science,  on  which  he  looks  with  weariness 
and  disgust  For  he  has  arrived  at  the  stage  of  thought  when  ha 
despairs  of  the  power  of  study.  It  is  from  powers  of  which  man 
is  unconscious  that  all  the  wonders  of  creation  proceed.  When 
contrasted  with  those  powers,  all  our  studies  are  nothing  more  than 
a  '  vanity  of  vanities.'  Law,  medicine,  theology— Faust  describes 
them  all  as  dry  abstractions  and  dead  formuUs^  having  no  unicMi 
with  life  and  reality,  and  conferring  on  the  student  no  power 
either  to  control  or  to  enjoy  the  boundless  energies  and  resources 
of  nature.  His  ambition  is  partly  sensuous  and  mostly  egotistia 
True,  he  complains  in  one  part  of  his  monologue  that  he  finds  in 
his  studies  nothing  that  can  confer  benefits  on  mankind,  but  from 
other  expressions  we  learn  that  he  longs  chiefly  for  power  and 
enjoyment.  It  is  indeed  nothing  less  tlig|i  theui^  powerrOir 
what  Goethe  callSIT^fsB]^  for  5fhi^  Faust  ia  Anadng. 

That  the  object  of  thought  should  be  to  make  this  finite  world 
appear  untrue,  that  the  aim  of  life  and  of  study  should  be  to  obtain 
rest,  not  excitement,  that  the  destiny  of  man  is  to  rise  above  his 
own  nature,  and  to  subdue  all  its  passions,  its  contentions  and 
cravings ;  this  is  not  Faust's  belief.  Such  philosophy  is  for  him 
a  realm  of  shadows.    He  would  explore,  he  says,  *  the  fountains     I 


/ 


288  OUTLINES  OP  OERMAN  UTERATUBE.  [Ch. 

wlience  flows  life  tluoughout  creation/  be  would  refresh  himself 
in  their  streams.  To  gain  such  power  and  enjoymenti  he  tries  the 
processes  of  magic  that  were  recommended  by  old  Nostrodamus 
(a  magician  or  astrologer  who  is  said  to  have  lived  in  the  sixteenth 
century);  but  after  some  deceptive  indications  of  success,  dis- 
couragement follows,  and  Faust  is  interrupted  by  a  visit  from 
Wagner,  his  JamtJttf  or  attendant-student,  who  is  a  very  dull  pe- 
dant. 'All  that  Faust  disdains  as  the '  dry  bones  and  mere  lumber  of 
erudition '  is  choice  meat  and  drink  for  the  intellectual  constitution 
of  Wagner..^  No  amount  of  our  modem  preparations  for  exami- 
nation could  have  been  too  great  for  him.  He  is  charmed  with 
dead  formuUB  and  cannot  have  too  many  of  them  impressed  upon 
his  memory.  EQs  notion  of  the  object  of  life  is  that  his  'mind' 
may  be  stored  with  an  infinite  number  of  rules  of  grammar,  prosody, 
formal  logic,  and  barren  rhetoric,  and  he  regrets  that  *  life  is  too 
short '  to  allow  the  most  diligent  student  to  m&ster  thoroughly 
i  such  a  study  as  Greek  prosody.  The  character  of  this  *  dry-as- 
dust '  pedant  is  admirably  contrasted  with  that  of  Faust 

Wagner,  after  receiving  a  hint  that  his  presence  is  becoming 
tiresome,  goes  away  to  pore  on  Hhe  dead  letter'  of  prosody,  or 
something  of  that  kind,  but  his  master,  HeapftiriTicr  of  Ayer  knowing 
more  than  mere  forois  and  words  without  jRWiiir  riisalvQfl  to  die 
r^lper  than  bve^  a  melancholy  inane  pedant  There  stands,  near 
him,  on  one  of  the  dusty  shelves  of  his  library,  an  old  brown 
gQ]b)let^  an  heir-loom  from  his  father,  and  often  of  yore  filled  with 
Rhine-wine  iCt  happy  family  festivals.  Faust  has  filled  it  now 
witLUftudanum,  and  is  liftvig  the  poison  to  his  lips  when  his 
resolution  is  suddenly  disturbed  by  a  melodious  peal  of  bellS|  and 
by  the  choral  hymn  sung  in  a  neighbouring  church  :— 

.    Christ  hath  azisen 
Out  of  death*8  prison ; 

for  it  18  now^sj^jioming,  and  all  the  old  Christian  asso-    -  /- 

dations  of  the  time  are  at  once  recalled  by  that  peal  of  church  • 

bells  and  that  cheerful  hymn.    'Oh,  heavenly  tones!'  he  ex- 
claims:— 

Te  call  me  back  to  life  again,  sweet  bells  I 

Ye  call  to  mind  the  time  when  Sabbath  peace 

Fell  on  my  spirit  like  a  kiss  from  heaven. 

Later  in  the  morning,  Faust  and  '  dry-as-dust '  Wagner  take  a  ^ 

walk  into  the  fields,  where  aU  the  ambition  and  melancholy  of  | 


XX.]  *  faust;  289 

Faust  are  brought  intd  Yivid  contrast  with  the  gladness  of  common 
life  that  beams  from  the  faces  of  peasants  (^n4tSWD8jgjg.Qple — all  in 
their  holiday  dress  and  coming  forth  into  the  sunshine.  Their 
cheerfulness  for  a  moment  imparts  itself  to  Faust.  But  when  one 
of  the  older  men  among  the  peasants  recognises  '  the  doctor/  and 
thanks  him  for  aid  received  during  affliction,  the  incident  suggests 
only  a  contemptuous  remark  on  the  uncertainty  of  medical 
science. 

It  is  characteristic  of  Wagaar  that  he  can  find  no  pleasure  in 
looking  on  the  crowd  of  people  enjoying  their  Easter  holiday. 
They  do  not  help  him  in  the  sole  aim  of  his  life— reading  to  gain 
honours  at  the  University  I  He  has  come  out,  even  on  Easter 
Sunday,  solely  to  derive  some  'profit,'  as  he  says,  from  conver- 
sation with  his  superior  in  learning.  'All  this  skittle-playing, 
fiddling,  and  singing  (as  they  call  it)  is,  for  me,  simply  detestable,' 
says  Wagner. — ^His  master,  however,  can  forget,  for  a  few  moments, 
his  own  melancholy,  while  he  looks  upon  the  merxy  people  of 
whom  he  thus  speaks : — 

With  joy  they  celebrate  the  day, 
F6r  they  themselves  have  burst  away, 
As  out  of  prison,  or  from  the  tomb^ 
From  many  a  workshop's  dusty  gloom  | 
Fi'om  many  a  narrow,  crowded  street 
They  come,  each  other  here  to  greet. 
Or  from  the  minster's  solemn  night 
They  wander  forth  into  the  light. 

When  evening  comes  on,  the  master  looks  on  the  burning 
western  heavens,  and  exprp-saPA  a  vagiifl  longing  to  follow  the 
couise  of  the  sun : — 

To  drink  at  the  eternal  source  of  light, 
And  leave  behind,  for'evermore,  the  night  I 

Wagner  frankly  owns  that  he  has  no  sympathy  with  any  such 
aspiration,  and  that  he  cares  liftle  for  the  beauties  of  nature.  For 
him  there  are  better  attractions  in  a  snug,  warm,  and  well-lighted 
study.    *  There  winter-evenings  are  very  pleasant,'  he  says ; — 

And,  when  some  predous  parchment  you  unroll. 
You  have  all  Paradise  in  your  own  soul  I  • 

Faust  spends  the  holiday  with  Wagner,  and  retires  after  sunset 
into  the  solitude  of  the  old  GK)thic  chamber.  Here  ha  is  yisited 
by  Mephistophfiles  'the  spirit  who  always  denies.'    Ostensibly 


290     OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.     [Ch. 

the  demon  has  been  compelled  to  appear  by  Faust's  magic ;  but  in 
truth  he  is  only  the  expression  of  Faust's  own  discontent  and 
egotism.  *  Every  man  is  tempted  by  himself/  ^nd  the  evil  that 
seems  to  come  from  without  comes  from  within.  Instead  of  the 
spirit  who  can  reveal  to  the  aspirant  the  mysteries  of  life  and 
creation,  it  is  the  demon  who  would  deny  and  destroy  that  now 
appears  in  a  human  form.  It  is,  indeed,  the  man*8  own  worse  self 
that  arises  and  stands  before  him. 

"WiUi^  bitter  sense  of  the  duality  .of  hisjown  existence — of  the 
contrast  between  his  vahitioo^^d  its.  results—Faust  describes 
what  he  would  call,  in  his  medieval  Latin,  his  whole  curriculum 
viUb  as  a  failure  and  disappointment.  He  denounces  all  attractions 
that  bind  him  to  life,  and  closes  a-diaadful  formula  of  imprgcation 
"^y  execrating  the  highest  virtues — hopfl,faith»  dnd  padence.  When 
the  utterance  of  the  curse  is  concluded,  a  chorus  of  invisible  spirita 
utter  a  lamentation : — 

Woe,  woe  for  thee ! — a  world  how  fair 
Hast  thoa  destroyed  in  tby  despair  I 
To  the  dark  void  the  wreck  we  bear. 

•  •  •  .  • 

O  mighty  one,  thou  earth-bom  son  I 
In  thine  owa  soul  build  up,  once  more, 
The  world*  so  fair,  that  we  deplore  I 

The  reply  that  Mephisto  gives  to  the  lamentation  is  very  subtle. 
He  suggests  that  the  best  way  to  build  up  a  new  life  is  to  renounce 
all  philosophy  and  to  seize  such  sensual  pleasures  as  the  world 
affords.  In  the  course  of  the  conversation  that  follows,  Faust 
more  deliberately  renounces  all  the  hopes  of  his  moral  and  intel- 
lectual nature,  while  the  demon  undertakes  to  supply  the  want  of 
them  by  such  wretched  excitements  as  a  sensual  life  can.  afford. 
Faust  denies  that  the  fiend^  by  means  of  'all  the  pomps  and 
2^ty  of  this  world,'  can  ever  give  satisfaction  to  the  soul  of  man ; 
ever/  says  he, '  I  am  so  charmed  with  any  earthly  pleasure 
.  that  I  say  to  any  present  moment,  *' Stey|_^ou  art  so  fairt "  then 
\  I  yield  myself,  as  your  prisoner  and  slave/toluffer  ahyltoom  that 
maybe  inflicted  upon  me.' — ^This  is  the  substance  of  the  bond 
between  Faust  and  Mephiatopheles,  which  is  forthwith  signed  in 
his  own  blood  by  Faust 

Meanwhile,  a  young  student  haa  come  to  present  letters  of 
inizodaction  to  the  professor.    The  genius  of  negatioiL  puts  on' 


XX.]  taust;  291 

Faust's  cap  asd  gown  and  jocosely  takes  his  seat  in  the  professor's  . 
chair.  A  conversation  follows  in  which  the  student  talks  with 
the  old  savant  on  the  respective  merits  of  several  studies.  Of 
logic,  natural  philosophy,  and  chemistry  Mephistopheles  speaks 
contemptuously,  and  of  metaphysics  aend  theology  he  presents  to 
the  student  grotesque  caricatures.  The  youth  will  hear  nothing  of 
law,  and  even  the  arch-sophist  finds  little  to  say  in  its  favour;  hut 
he  strongly  recommends  the  study  of  medicine:  not,  however,  for 
its  merits  as  a  science.  The  student  listens  with  abject  submission 
to  some  very  bad  advice,  and  then  presents  to  the  pseudo-philo- 
sopher,  a  little  book  of  blank  paper,  begging  that  he  will  write  in  it 
some  pithy  motto,  to  serve  as  a  memorandum  of  this  interview. 
Mephistopheles  writes  down  the  worda^^ritis  sicut  Deus,  scunies 
bonum  et  malunij  and  the  student  departs,  well  satisfied,  as  if  he 
had  found  a  treasure. 

In  the  next  scene  an  abrupt  transition  takes  place  from  the 
professor's  study  to  Auerbach's  wine-cellar  in  Leipzig,  where 
Faust  is  introduced  to  a  number  of  jftvial  fellows  who  are  drinking, 
singing  and  quarrelling.  Their  buffoonery  is  distasteful  to  Faust, 
who  will  not  accept  their  easiest  of  all  solutions  of  life's  problems. 
Though,  he  has  recently  denounced  abstruse  philosophy,  he  is  not 
so  soon  prepared  to  enjoy  its  extreme  opposite.  It  is  evident  that 
he  must  be  tempted  by  attractions  somewhat  more  refined  than 
such  as  are  to  be  found  in  Auerbach's  wine-cellar,  and  in  order 
that  he  may  be  conquered,  he  must  be  made  young  again. 

Now  follow  scenes  of  enchantment  in  'the  witch's  kitchen,' 
where  a  charm  is  prepared  by  which  Faust  is  suddenly  restored  to 
the  enjoyment  of  youth.  The  gray  hair,  the  deep  wrinkles  and 
the-  stooping  figure  of  the  weary  student  are  abolished,  and  all 
that  experience  had  gained  is  also  cast  aside  with  the  signs  of  old 
age.  A  vigorous,  handsome  and  enterprising  youth  takes  the 
place  of  the  old  professor  of  metaphysics. 

•  Faust — under  the  guidance  of  Mephisto — ^becomes,  for  a  short 
time,  a  materialist  of  the  most  advanced  school;  he  renounces 
the  ideal,  or  all  that  cannot  be  made  real  and  enjoyable.  It  is 
contrived  by  the  enemy  that  his  dupe,  while  in  this  mood  of 
mind,  shall  meet  the  heroine  of  the  drama — ^Margaret,  whom  we 
can  hardly  desctibe  otherwise  than  as  a  representative  of  Nature 
herself,  in  all  the  innocence  imagined  by  poets  and  mystics.  Her 
presence  makes  the  oontrast  between  Fauat  and  his  '  Companion ' 

u2 


\ 


292  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

more  apparent  than  ever  before;  in  tbe  former  all  the  nobler 
aspirations  of  his  youth  are  revived,  while  the  latter  becomes 
more  and  more  cynical.  The  poet  writes  here  in  perfect  accord- 
ance with  a  maxim  given  by  Leopold  Schefer: — *  a  man's  honour 
must  be  estimated  according  to  his  own  estimate  of  women.' 
Such  a  maxim  would  have  excited  all  the  satirical  power  of 
Mephisto.  He  talks  of  Margaret  so  as  to  expose  his  own  extreme 
degradation,  and  succeeds,  for  a  time,  in  making  Faust  a  slave  to 
p&<3sion.  Meanwhile,  their  intended  victim  is  dreaming  only  of 
an  affection  as  pure  and  faithful  as  that  told  of  in  the  simple 
ballad  she  is  singing : — 

There  lived  a  king  in  Thiil^    -who  was  faithful  to  the  grave : 
His  love,  when  she  was  dying,    to  him  a  beaker  gav^ 

More  prized  than  all  his  treasure    that  cup  of  gold  remained ; 
His  eyes  with  tears  would  glisten    when  he  the  goblet  drained. 

When  he  was  old  and  d\dng,    his  wealth  he  reckoU'd  up, 
And  gave  all  to  the  princes— ^cept  that  golden  cup  I 

And  to  his  knights,  all  loyal,    as  were  the  men  of  yor^ 
He  gave  a  banquet  royal    in  his  castle  on  the  shore. 

There  stood  the  old  king,  drinking    one  lonjg  deep  health — ^the  last- 
Then  down  among  the  billows    that  sacred  cup  he  cast ; 

And  as  the  cup  was  sinking    he  closed  his  eyes  ;  no  more 
He  drank  the  wine  all  rosy    in  his  castle  on  the  shore  I 

I    The  evil  'Companion'  has  cast  aside  his  mediseval   encum- 

/brancefi — hoof,  horns,  and  tail — and,  in  a  low  but  common  sense  of 

/  the  word,  is  a  gentleman !   smart  with  scarlet  mantle,  a  cock's 

'  feather  on  his  hat,  and  a  rapier  at  his  side.    A  slight  halt  in  the 

left  foot  might  be    concealed,  but  his  sneer  betrays   him    to 

Margaret's  insight.     She  tells  his  character  in  a  few   cdmple 

words : — 

Tou  see  that  he  with  no  sonl  sympathizes  ; 
'Tis  written  on  his  face — he  never  loved.  .  ,  . 
Whenever  be  comes  near,.  I  cannot  pray. 

Faust,  under  the  influence  of  these  suggestions,  learns  to  abhor 
his  '  Companion,'  and,  in  a  soliloquy,  expresses  a  longing  to  be 
ireed  from  contact  with  him : — 

with  this  new  Joy  that  brings 
Me  near  and  nearer  Heayen,  was  given  to  me 


XX.]  'faust;  293 

^  This  man  for  my  *  companion ' ! — He  degrades    . 
•My  nature,  and  with  cold  and  insolent  breath 
Turns  Heaven's  best  gifts  to  mockeries  I 

Meanwhile,  with  a  forehoding  of  coming  sorrow,   Margaret/^ 
sitting  alone  at  her  spinning-wheel,  is  singing : — 

My  heart  is  heavy,    my  peace  ia  o'er  ; 
I  shall  find  it  never ;    oh,  never  more ! 

Subsequent  scenes  in  the  drama  blend  together  the  most  dis- 
cordant elements — the  highest  passion  and  the  lowest  cynicism, 
ideal  aspiration  and  the  coarsest  materialism,  mysticism  and 
prosaic  common-place,  ethereal,  religious  poetry,  and  the  most 
profane  caricature ;  all  are  strangely  mingled.  The  highest  in- 
terest throughout  belongs  to  the  beautiful  character  of  Margareti^ 
whose  innocent  love  is  made  the  means  of  urging  her  on  to  crima 
misery,  and  insanity.  It  may  remain  a  question  whether  the 
poet's  power  is  more  evident  in  the  creation  of  this  heroine,  or  in 
the  embodiment  of  all  that  is'  cynical,  envious  and  malignant  in 
the  person  of  Mephistopheles.  The  fiend  is  seen  in  a  light  of 
contrast  that  makes  him  more  and  more  revolting,  and  Faust  who 
once  despised,  now  hates  yet  dreads,  the  tempter — his  destined 
companion  through  life  I  By  the  blind  passion  of  Faust  and  by 
the  machinations  of  the  demon,  Margaret  is  surrounded  with  a 
cloud  of  guilt  and  disgrace,  which  becomes  darker  and  darker ; 
though  it  can  never  be  truly  said  to  belong  to  her  character.  Her  c 
mother,  her  brother,  and  lastly  her  own  child  have  been  destroyed, 
and  of  two  of  these  crimes  she  has  been  made  an  unconscious 
instrument.  Without  the  use  of  sophistry  or  any  palliation  of 
guilt,  she  is  made  to  appear  innocent — even  when  she  is  con- 
demned to  die. 

But  her  soul  is,  nevertheless,  tormented  by  the  terrors  of  the    ' 
guilt  that  belongs  to  others,  and  she  seeks  refuge  in  the  cathedral, 
wHei'e  she  used  to  prajr  when  a  child.     There  an  Evil  Spirit 
haunts  her— as  a  voice — while  the  tones  of  the  organ  and  the 
choir,  singing  the  Dies  ircBf  threaten  final  condemnation  :-^ 

Evil  Spirit.  Ah,  happier  in  her  chOdhood's  day 
Margaret'in  innocence  would  come  to  pray, 
And,  kneeling  here,  beside  the  altar-stairs, 
With  tiny  book  in  hand,  lisped  out  her  prayers^ 
While  thinking  half  of  Heaven  and  half  of  play  I 


294  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATURK  [Cjx. 

Woflld'it  tbcm  pny  now  for  thine  own  motlni%  booI 
Sent  by  thyself  into  her  long^  last  sleep  ? 

■  •••■•• 

Margaret.  Woe  I  Woe  I 

Were  I  hat  free 

From  these  bad  thongfais  that  follow  me 
And  threaten  me,  where'er  I  go  I 

Choib.  Dies  ira,  d»et  UXa 
iS'o/oct  aaclum  m/aviUa, 

Evil  Spirit  tpeakt  while  <Aordi  are  prolonged  on  Ae  organ, 
Terrore  seize  thee  I 
The  trumpet  sounds  I 
The  graves  are  openiog,  and  thy  hearty 
As  out  of  slumber  in  the  dost 
Awakening  into  fiexy  pain. 
Quivers  1 

Margaret,    Oh  were  I  but  away  from  here 
The  organ  takes  away  my  breath ; 
The  singing  breaks  my  heart. 

Choir.  Judex  ergo  qnum  eeddnt, 
Quidqmd  latet  adparebitf 
Nil  um/tion  remanehU, 

Margaret,  Oh  for  one  breath  of  air  I 
These  pillars  clasp  me  round ; 
The  roof  comes  dovm  on  me ; 
Air  t  give  me  room  to  breathe  I 

EvU  Spirit.  Would*8t  hide  thyself  ?— but  sin  and  shame 
Can  never  long  be  hidden. 
Air?— light  ?— for  thee  ?— 
Woe!— Woe  I— 

Choir.  Quid  turn  mieer  tunc  dicturuSf 
Quern  patronum  rogaturutf 
Cum  vixjuatns  wit  eecums. 

Evil  Spit  it.  The  angels  turn  their  faces  from  thee  I 
The  saints  all  shudder  to  stretch  their  hands 
Towards  sudi  a  sinner  I — Woe ! 

Choib.  Quid  turn  mtser  tune  dietumu  f  / 

Margaret  utters  a  call  for  aid  and  falls  senseless.  Soon  after- 
"wards  she  is  airested.  It  was  a  devotion  that  became  insanity 
which  led  her  to  yield  herself  an  instrument  in  the  perpetration 
of  crimes  of  -which  Mephistoplieles  is  really  guilty. 

Without  any  attempt  to  explain  the  scenes  of  diahUrie  on  the 
Blocksbezg,  a  '  haunted '  summit  of  the  Haiz  Mountains,  to  which 


XX.]  '  FAU5T.'  295 

Faust  is  led  by  his  '  Companion/ — while  Margaret  is  left  pining  in 
prisons-one  sequence  may  be  noticed,  namely,  that  .guilt  is  fol- 
lowed by  prostration  of  both  the  will  and  the  intellect.  Amidst 
wild  revels  in  which  he  seems  to  have  no  pleasure,  the  trans- 
gressor is  haunted  by  a  vision  of  one  whom  he  has  left,  in  hei 
deepest  misery,  imprisoned  in  a  dungeon. — 'Save  her  I  liberate 
her  I  or  woe  upon  thee ! '  he  exclaims  fiercely  to  his  *  Companion,' 
who  coldly  replies :  '  Did  I,  or  didst  thou,  thrust  her  down  to 
destruction  P ' 

The  sentence  of  death  has  been  passed  upon  her,  when  Faust — 
Helnrich  as  she  calls  him— comes,  before  daybreak,  to  the  prison, 
to  snatch  her  away  from  the  sword  of  the  executioner.  But  it  is 
not  life,  it  is  the  innocence  and  happiness  of  past  days  that 
Margaret  demands ;  and  as  they  can  never  be  restored  to  her  in 
this  world,  she  is  willing  to  leave  it.  She  will  die  rather  than 
escape  from  prison  to  live  in  ignominy  with  Faust,  and  she  is 
horrified  by  finding  him,  once  more,  in  the  company  of  his  evil 
genius : — 

Faust,  Tis  dawning,  love !  no  tarrying ;  haste  away ! 

Margaret,  Yes,  it  grows  light;  it  brings  to  me  the  day 
That  u  to  be  my  last  I — and  'twas  to  be 
The  morning  for  my  wedding  I  ^ 


Ah  I  see  tlie' crowd  is  gathering ;  bnt  how  still 

The  streets  !  the  sqaare  t 

It  cannot  hold  the  thousands  that  are  there ; 

The  bell  is  tolling ;  now  they  bind  me  fast  • 

They  barr>'  me  along  $  there  shines  the  sword 

To  fall  upon  no  neck  but  mine ! — How  dumb 

All  the  world  lies  around  me,  like  the  grave ! 

Fatut,  Oh  that  I  never  had  been  bom  I 

[JlfcpAuf»pA«/es  appears  and  speaks  to  FatatJ\  Away  I 
You  perish  if  you  loiter  now.    See  there  I 
My  hones  are  shuddering  in  the  chilly  air ; 
The  day  is  dawning. — Come  I 

Margaret,  What  rises  firom  the  earth  ?— 'TIS  he  I    Tis  he 
How  dares  he  to  come  hither  ? — Drive  him  forth  I 
This  is  a  sacred  place ;  dares  he  to  come 
Hither  for  me  ?— 

Fmat.  Ko;th<mBhaltliveI 


296  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

Margaret.  Thoa  Jadge  of  all  I  to  Thee  myself  I  give  1 
Mephistopkeks,  Come !  or  I  leave  70a  with  her — ^both  to  perish  I 

But  this  is  a  vain  threat  with  regard  to  one  of  tbe  intended 
victims.  The  Spirit  who  denies  and  destroys  has  lost,  for  ever, 
his  power  over  the  soul  of  Margaret  I—' She  is  judged  I '  he  ex- 
claims, in  his  fierce  anger  and  disappointment ;  but  a  voice  from 
above  replies,  'She  is  saved.'  Her  last  thought  is  of  Faust. 
Though  the  sword  is  ready  to  faU  upon  her  neck,  it  is  not  for  her- 
self that  she  has  any  fears,  but  for  the  destiny  of  Faust,  who  is 
now  hurried  away — whither?  For  the  last  time^  she  looks  on 
his  face  and  says : — 

Heinrich  I  I  shudder  as  I  look  on  thee. 

Mephisfopheies  to  Faust,  Here  I  hither  to  me  t 

[  Vdnithet  with  Faust.'] 

\_A  voice  Jrom  withtHf  dying  away,"]  Heinrich  I  Heinrich  I 

The  clearest  harmony  between  this  First  Part  of  the  drama  and 
the  Second  is  found  in  their  concluding  scenes.  That  pathetic 
last  word  uttered  the  truth,  that  Margaret  could  not  be  happy^ 
if  saved  alone. 


Some  considerable  space  of  time  must  be  supposed  to  elapse 
between  the  close  of  the  First  and  the  opening  of  the  Second 
Part.  The  hero — whose  repentance  has  been  fully  i&plied,  though 
it  is  not  expressed  here — is  foimd  awaking,  at  the  dawn  of  day. 
All  things  around  him  are  symbolical  of  his  own  resolution  to 
begin  a  new  life.  His  first  monologue  gives  a  fine  description  of 
the  efiects  of  sunrise  in  an  Alpine  valley  : — 

tn  glimmertng  sheen  the  world  is  wrapt  around, 

A  thousand  carols  through  the  woodland  sound  ; 

Along  the  dale  the  misty  streaks  are  drawn,         % 

.Yet  in  the  deepest  gorge  are  signs  of  dawn ; 

The  leafy  twigs  from  mibty  clefts  s^lne  out ; 

On  buds  and  blooms  fresh  pearls  are  dropt  about ; 

Hue  after  hue  gleams  from  the  dusky  ground, 

And  Paradise  is  opening  all  around. 

Upwards  my  glance  t  the  mountain-peaks  are  glowing^ 

For  us  the  ngns  of  nearer  daybreak  showing ; 


/ 


.]  'FAUST/  297 

They  earlier  enjoy  the  eicnud  light 
That  later  beams  apon  our  dazzled  sight. 
Now  a  bright  ^ance  displays  the  moantain's  green, 
Nov  spreads  the  light  till  all  the  dale  is  seea, 
And  now  the  sun  I  and,  blinded  by  the  day, 
With  aching  sight  1  tnm  myself  away. 
■  •  ■  •         ■  • 

So  let  the  sun,  nnseen,  behind  me  blaze. 

While  here  I  meet  his  fair,  reflected  rays  ; 

Yon  waterfall  I  see  with  new  delight, 

Burst  through  the  rocky  cleft,  and  from  the  height 

Falling — a  thousand  streams  at  once  outpouring. 

Mid  spra}'  douds  over  spray  clouds  lightly  soaring. 

How  glorious,  beaming  through  the  misty  air. 

The  changeful  yet  abiding  rainbow  there, 

Now  clear  outshining,  fading  now  away,  *  ■ 

Lost- for  a  moment  in  the  cloud  of  spray  I — 

Well  shows  the  varying  bow  our  life's  endeavour; 

For  ever  changing  and  the  same  for  ever  I 

Paasing  over  many  other  scenes — shifted  from  land  to  land,  as 
in  a  phantasmagoria — we  find  a  more  direct  connection  with  the 
chief  interest  of  the  First  Part  on  arriving  at  the  fourth  act  of  the 
Second  Part  Here  Faust,  wlio  has  been  active  in  politics,  war- 
fare, and  the  culture  of  art,  but  has  found  no  satisfaction  in  any  of 
his  endeavours,  devotes  himself,  finally,  to  a  great  philanthropic 
and  industrial  undertaking.  The  king  whom  he  has  served,  has 
given  him  a  wide  waste  of  land  on  the  sea-shore,  which  he  has 
resolved  to  save  from  the  devastation  spread  by  the  ocean.  This 
final  enterprise  has  been  condemned  as  forming  a  prosaic  con- 
clusion to  the  drama ;  but  it  should  be  observed  that  the  bero — 
now  represented  as  very  old — is  contemplating,  in  all  his  plans 
for  drainage  and  embankment,  nothing  less  than  the  creation  of  a 
new  land,  to  be  inhabited  by  a  Jr^.  and  industriQU§.  people.  Not 
for  the  indulgence  of  either  luxury  or  ambition,  but  for  the  pro- 
motion of  victorious  industry,  and  for  the  development  of  rational 
liberty, Faust  labours  on;  while  his  sneering '  Companion' — ^though 
somewhat  humbled  now — derides  all  such  honest,  hard  work,  and 
proposes  to  build,  instead  of  dams  and  sluices,  'a  magnificent 
Versailles,'  with  all  the  appendages  that  could  be  desired  by  a 
modem  Sardanapalus  I    Faust  scorns  the  demon's  notion  of  lite. 

In  spite  of  all  satire  and  evil  suggestion,  the  gray  old  man — 
formerly  known  as  *  \it,  Faustus ' — goes  on  bravely,  working  for 
other  men  \  for  many  generations  of  men^  as  be  says. 


\ 


•298  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.  [Ca. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  general  design  of  some  passages 
in  this  Second  Part  of  the  drama  is  to  show  that  neither  philo- 
sophy, art,  nor  literature  can  afford  satisfaction  and  rest  to  the 
enterprising  spirit  of  modem  times.  May  we  not  understand  the 
poet  as  telling  us,  that  our  destiny  is  to  pass  through  great  social 
changes  and  industrial  and  economic  reforms  into  a  new  era, 
where  the  elements  of  our  life,  both  physical  and  intellectual, 
shall  be  more  harmoniously  developed  than  in  our  present  dviliza^ 
tion  ? — This  is  the  conclusion  to  which  we  are  led  by  comparing 
several  passages  in  '  Faust '  with  the  writer's  *  Sodal  Romances.' 
Such  a  conclusion  may  be  called  'prosaic,'  but  it  is,  at  the 
sadie  time,  noble ;  for  the  workman  must  be  judged  by  his  motive. 
For  wimt  of  more  work  like  that  which  occupied  the  close  of  the 
ex-magician's  career,  our  refinements  of  civilization — our  art, 
music  and  poetry;  even  our  religion,  so  far  as  it  is  unpractical — 
are  but  glittering  pinnacles  on  an  edifice  without  a  safe  foundation. 
Is  there  no  danger  of  our  being  rudely  called  away  from  art  and 
literature,  from  philosophy  and  meditative  theology,  to  the  dis- 
cussion of  hard  social  questions  respecting  disorganised  labour, 
and  the  strife  of  classes  P  May  not  such  strife  possibly  be  found 
symbolised  in  '  that  coast  wasted  by  the  sea  wavesj'  against  which 
Faust  waged-  warfare  P — He  grappled  with  the  first  difficulty  of 
civilization;   the  organisation  of  labour  for  the  subjugation  of 

.  nature — ^including,  under  that  word,  the  crude  human  nature  that 
must  be  subdued  in  all  of  us.  We  cannot  therefore  see  that  such 
a  conclusion  of  a  drama  is  deficient  in  moral  dignity. 

To  pass  to  the  Fifth  Act — here  '  four  gray  women ' — '  Poverty,' 
'Guilt,'  'Destitution,'  and  'Care' — ^all  come  to  disturb  the  old 
workman ;  but  all  excepting  '  Care '  are  expelled  from  the  land 
governed  by  an  industrial  'king  of  men.'  'Care'  must  remain 
with  him ;  for  she  is^as  Leopold  Schefer  says — of  divine  origin, 
and  a  personage  worthy  of  dwelling  with  rulers  in  palaces.  In 
his  extreme  old  age,  and  stricken  with  blindness — ^he  is  about  a 

hundred  years  old — the  man  battles  with  the  »rude  elements  of 
nature  to  the  last,  and  then  enjoys,  in  dying,  an  anticipation  of 
future  results.    Thus  he  speaks  of  his  work : — 

Freedom,  like  life,  must  be  deserved  by  toil — 
Here  men  shall  live,  and,  on  this  fertile  soil. 
Begirt  with  dangers,  shall,  from  youth  to  age^ 
Th«ir  constant  warfiure  with  the  ocean  wage. 


XX.]  '  f  AUST/  299 

O  ooald  I  see  my  followers ! — Might  I  stand 
Among  free  people  on  my  own  free  land ! 
To  such  a  moment  of  intense  delight    * 
I'd,  fearless,  say — O  stay  I-^thon  art  so  bright  I 


Anticipating  all  that  future  bliss, 

'I  have  it  now. — That  moment's  here ! — Tis  tbib  ! 

So  saying,  the  fighter  with  the  sea  reclines  upon  the  soil  which 
he  has  bravely  won  from  the  waves,  and  in  full  contentment  ex- 
pires. By  his  last  words,  he  has  (if  the  letter  of  the  old  hond 
holds  good)  forfeited  his  soul  to  Mephisto,  who  is  here,  ready  to 
show  fl)^  hond.  '  Here  lies  the  hody/  says  he,  *  and  now,  if  the 
spirit  tries  to  escape,  I  meet  him,  at  once,  with  this  document.' — 
The  enemy  who  led  young  Faust  into  sin  now  makes  a  protest 
against  the  doctrine  of  '  the  forgiveness  of  sins,'  which,  as  he 
declares,  is  a  modem  innovation  and  utterly  heterodox.  'In 
the  ancient  times,'  says  he,  '  there  was  no  trouhle  such  as  we 
have  now  in  catching  the  souls  of  men.  We  were  then  sure  of 
our  victims  when  once  they  had  signed ;  hut  now  there  are  so 
many  new  ways  of  saving  them  I ' — This  zeal  for  orthodox  and 
conservative  principles  seems  very  strange,  when  the  character  of 
the  spealier  is  considered. 

Meanwhile,  companies  of  angels  appear  to  welcome  the  soul  of 
Faust,  as  one  of  their  own  communion,  and  to  lead  him  up  to  the 
place  where  a  Spirit  once  named  '  Margaret '  is  waiting  for  him. 
By  his  devotion  to  a  grand,  benevolent  aim,  by  living  for  the 
whole  and  for  the  better  world  to  come,  he  has  been  prepared  for 
communion  with  the  unseen  inhabitants  of  that  world. 

The  demon  summons  all  his  subordinates  to  assist  in  preventing 
the  escape  of  the  intended  victinL  Passages  of  most  grotesque 
humour  are  here  placed  in  contrast  with  some  beautiful  thoughts 
and  their  imagery.  Angels  and  demons  contend  for  the  pos- 
session of  the  soul,  while  Margaret  is  waiting  in  heaven  for  the 
arrival  of  the  Spirit  whom  she  once  called  '  Heinrich.'  Transub- 
stantiated and  endowed  with  everlasting  youth,  he  rises  to 
heaven,  while  the  angels  who  attend  him  are  singing; — 

This  member  of  our  heavenly  quire 

Is  saved  from  evil  powers  ; 
Let  evermore  a  soul  aspire, 

And  we  can  make  him  oars. 


300  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEBATURE.  [Oh. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

SEVENTH  PEBIOD.    1770-1830. 


SGHILLEB. 


*  He  waa  a  seer— a.  prophet  ...  A  century  has  paased  shice  his  birth, 
and  we  revere  him  as  one  of  the  first  among  the  spiritual  heroes  of  humanity. 
A  hundred  years  may  roll  away ;  another  and  yet  another ;  still  from 
century  to  century  his  name  shall  be  celebrated,  and  at  last  there  shall  come 
a  festival  when  men  will  say : — «  See  I  there  was  truth  in  his  ideal  antidpar 
tions  of  freedom  and  civilization."  * 

Fribdrich  Yischeb's  Speech  at  the  Centenary  Festival 
of  SehiUer^g  Birthday  (1859). 

For  tbe  sake  of  placing  together  notices  of  seyeral  of  Goethe's 
works^  BO  as  to  show  both  their  union  and  their  varietyi  we  have 
deviated  from  the  order  of  time^  to  which  we  now  retjmi. 

In  1781,  when  Goethe  wrote  (in  prose)  his  qtdet  drama  of 
'  Tasso/  a  contrast  to  that  work  appeared  in  a  wild  and  violent 
play  called  '  The  Robbers/  which  produced  an  excitement  now 
hardly  conceivable  as  the  result  of  such  a  tragedy.  It  was  an 
unartistic,  dramatic  rhapsody,  written  in  favour  of  anarchy,  which 
was  described  as  propitious  to  the  development  of  '  genius '  and 
strength  of  character. .  The  praise  and  the  censure  bestowed  on 
this  crude  drama  were  alike  unbounded.  'If  Germany  is  ever 
to  have  a  Shakspeare,  here  he  is  I '  said  one  fanatical  critic — refer- 
ring to  the  author  of '  The  Robbers.'  *  If  I  might  create  a  world/ 
said  another  and  more  ridiculous  fanatic,  ^  on  the  condition  that 
'^  The  Robbers  "  should  appear  in  that  world,  I  would  not  create 
it  I '  The  play  thus  absurdly  spoken  of  was  Friedrich  Schiller's 
contribution  to  the  sensational  literature  abeady  described  in 
Chapters  XYI.  and  XYII.  The  errors  of  the  play  belonged  to  the 
time  when  it  appeared.  The  extreme  bad  taste  then  prevalent 
has  been  sufficiently  noticed. 


XXI.]  SCmLLEB.  301 

JoHANN  Chbistoph  Friedmch  (von)  ScHiiXEB  was  born  at 
the  little  town  of  Marbach,  situate  on  the  Neckar^  on  NoveAer 
10,  1759.  flis  father,  a  lieutenant  in  the  army  of  Wiirtemberg, 
held  also  an  appointment  as  park-keeper  at  'The  Solitude/  a 
country-seat  where  the  Duke  of  WUrtemberg,  in  1771,  established 
a  military  academy,  afterwards  removed  to  Stuttgart.  In  this 
school  the  young  poet  received  his  education.  Hero  he  read 
Goethe's  drama,  '  Gotz,'  several  inferior  German  plays  and  poems, 
and  some  translations  from  Shakspeare.  He  thus  found  solace  in  a 
world  of  imagination,  revealing  itself  to  him  in  startling  contrast 
vnth  the  scKbol- world  of  hard  routine  in  which  he  was  confined. 
His  dislike  of  law  studies  extended  itself  to  civilised  life,  and 
drove  his  imagination  to  the  haunts  of  bandits  in  forests.  After 
forsaking  law  and  slightly  studying  medicine,  he  was  appointed  as 
a  regimental  surgeon.  His  pay  was  despicable,  and  his  style  of 
hospital  practice  more  drastic  and  heroic  than  judicious.  Mean- 
while his  thoughts  were  occupied  with  the  success  of  *The  Robbers  * 
at  Mannheim,  and,  without  leavo  of  absence,  he  quitted  his 
patients  and  went  to  enjoy  the  popularity  of  his  own  play.  For 
this  offence  he  suffered  a  fortnight's  arrest,  and  received  some 
admonition  from  the  Duke  of  Wiirtemberg. 

A  deep  impression  had  been  made  on  the  poet^s  mind  by  his 
acquaintance  with  the  history  of  Daniel  Schubart,  (see  Chapter 
XVII.),  who,  on  account  of  some  irreverent  writings,  had  endured 
in  Wiirtemberg  an  imprisonment  of  ten  years !  Calling  to  mind 
that  fact,  the  author  of  *The  Robbers'  was  resolved  to  escape  from 
Stuttgart,  and  a  favourable  opportunity  soon  presented  itself.  The 
Grand  Duke  Paul  of  Russia  visited  Stuttgart,  and  the  authorities 
of  the  place  were  too  busy  in  preparing  illuminations  in  honour  of 
their  guest  to  notice  the  departure  of  a  young  regimental  surgeon. 
Schiller  rode,  at  midnight,  by  'The  Solitude,'  lit  up  with  a 
thousand  candles,  and  the  Stuttgart  people  did  not  dream  that  a 
man  was  leaving  their  town  that  night  of  whom  they  would  some 
day  be  prouder  than  they  were  of  the  Grand  Duke's  visit.  That 
royal  visit  is  now  remembered  only  on  account  of  the  fact  that, 
at  the  time  of  its  occurrence,  the  poet  went  to  Mannheim. 

When  he  arrived  in  the  town,  he  alarmed  the  theatre-manager, 
Meyer,  by  making  a  confession  to  the  effect  that  the  duke's  autho- 
rity had  been  defied,  and  that  his  own  pecuniary  resources  were 
slender,  while  his  hopes  of  success  were  founded  on  a  manuscript 


302  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cir. 

play  called  'Fieeco.'  At  first  tbe  manager  disliked  this  new 
drama,  and  would  hardly  believe  that  it  bad  been  written  by  the 
author  of  '  The  Robbers.'  Afterwards,  Meyer  thought  better  of 
'  Fiesco/  but  time  was  wanted  to  adapt  it  to  the  stage,  and  the 
poet's  resources  meanwhile  were  failing.  ^Vishing  to  place 
himself  at  a  greater  distance  from  his  former  patron,  the  duke, 
Schiller  soon  left  Mannheim  and  went  to  Frankfort.  On  the 
journey  his  strength  was  exhausted,  and  he  lay  down  to  rest  in  a 
wood,  while  one  faithful  friend — a  poor  musician  named  Streicher 
— watched  over  him.  They  left  Frankfort  ere  long;  for  the  poet's 
hope  of  receiving  aid  from  the«director  of  the  Mannheim  theatre 
was  disappointed.  The  travellers  next  found  a  more  obscure 
retreat  in  a  village  where  Schiller  wrote  a  part  of  Kahale  und 
Liebe  {*  Intrigue  and  Love')  in  a  miserable  chamber  where  the 
damp  wind  of  November  was  blovring  through  a  crazy  window 
patched  with  paper.  Here  Streicher  was  compelled  to  leave  his 
companion  in  distress,  who,  dressed  in  a  light  coat  and  destitute 
of  winter  clothing,  was  carrying  all  his  worldly  goods  in  a  small 
portmanteau.  He  now  gladly  availed  himself  of  an  invitation 
which  he  had  received  from  a  lady — ^Frau  von  Wolzogen — the 
mother  of  some  young  men  who  had  been  fellowHstudents  with 
the  poet  at  Stuttgart.  In  her  house  at  the  lonely  village  of 
Bauerbach,  near  Meiningen,  he  found  welcome  shelter  during  the 
winter  of  1782-3,  and  there  completed  his  third  drama.  In  1783 
he  gained  a  small  salary  by  his  services  as  poet  to  the  theatre  at 
Mannheim,  and  this  poor  appointment  brought  to  a  conclusion  the 
sensational  furor  in  the  development  of  his  genius.  His  next 
drama,  Don  Carlosy  is  full  of  enthusiasm  for  freedom,  and  ex- 
presses some  traits  in  the  poet's  character;  especially  his  wish  to 
make  the  theatre  serve  as  an  educational  institution. 

His  fiirm  belief  in  the  possibility  of  making  the  stage  a  great 
moral  power  in  society  explains  his  earnest  devotion  to  dramatic 
studies.  In  a  clear  and  eloquent  lecture,  delivered  at  Mannheim, 
in  1784,  he  contends  that  a  superior  drama  may,  powerfully 
though  indirectly,  assist  the  laws  of  a  nation  for  the  support  of 
morality.  He  argues  that,  even  where  the  moral  condition  of  a 
people  is  low,  they  can  be  made  to  feel  a  wholesome  dread  of 
crime  '  when  the  poet  brings  on  the  stage  the  wife  of  Macbeith, 
muttering,  in  her  perturbed  sleep : — **  All  the  perfumes  of  Arabia 
will  not  sweeten  this  little  hand ! " '  '  Such  theatrical  impreasioiu ' 


XXI.]  THE  MORAL  POWER  OF  THE  STAGE.  303 

—says  Schiller — '  cannot  be  esteemed  good  substitutes  for  moral 
teaching ;  but  they  are  strong  and  durable  upon  the  minds  of  the 
common  people,  and  must  have  some  value.'  'Could  any  lecture 
or  essay  on  the  hateful  nature  of  ingratitude  produce  the  effect  of 
Lear's  exclamation  to  his  daughters — ^*  I  gave  yon  all "  P  But 
there  are  many  minor  yirtues  and  vices,  pleasing  qualities  and 
foibles  in  human  nature,  which  religion  and  law  cannot  condescend 
to  notice ;  yet  worthy  of  obaerration,  «nd  without  M.y  personality 
or  malice,  these  are  placed  before  us  in  legitimate  comedy.  Li 
this  mirror  we  see  defects  and  inconsistencies  found  in  our  own 
characters,  and,  without  having  to  submit  to  personal  reproof,  we 
may  be  secretly  thankful  to  the  comic  dramatist  for  giying  us 
wholesome  hints,  while  he  raises  a  laugh  at  the  expense  of  an 
imaginary  character.  If  against  these  observations  it  is  argued 
that  practical  life  contradicts  them ;  that  spectators  can  witness 
representations  of  the  best  moral  dramas,  and  feel  no  wholesome 
influence ;  that  the  "  Harpagon  "  of  Moli^re  has  not  made  extor- 
tioners ashamed  of  their  practices;  that  the  suicide  of  ''Beverley" 
has  not  proved  an  effectual  warning  to  all  gamblers ;  or  that  the 
tragical  end  of  '^Karl  Moor  "  has  not  frightened  all  robbers,  and 
made  our  highways  safe — still,  admitting  the  force  of  these 
objections,  I  would  say  that  the  drama  must  not  be  condemned 
for  having  failed,  as  other  institutions  have  hitherto  failed,  to 
produce  a  complete  reformation  in  society.'  Thus  Schiller  rea- 
soned— his  conclusions  all  depending  on  the  supposition  that  a 
legitimate  and  moral  drama  can  be  maintained. 

Almost  all  that  can  be  said  for  and  against  the  moral  power  of 
the  stage  may  be  found  in  this  lecture,  and  in  an  essay  on  the 
same  subject  by  a  Catholic  writer,  named  Ignaz  Wessenberg. 
*  The  drama,'  says  this  author, '  however  noble  its  character,  must 
not  give  its  lessons  in  a  didactic  style,  but  most  place  before  ud, 
in  fair  contrasts,  the  lights  and  the  shadows  of  human  nature; 
must  make  us  acquainted  with  the  wise,  the  virtuous,  and  also 
wtth  the  foolish  and  the  unworthy.  And  characters  must  be 
naturally  drawn.  The  goodness  which  accompanies  evil  must 
claim  our  notice.  The  moral  or  general  purport  of  a  drama  cannot 
llppear  in  every  part;  but  must  result  from  a  fair  view  of  the 
whole.  Can  we  hope,  even  if  a  drama  is  in  itself  good,  that  all 
the  spectators  will  take  a  fair  view  of  the  whole  P  If  a  rogue  is 
intiodaced  on  the  stage,  he  mutt  be  made  interesting ;  bii  good 


304.  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cn, 

humour,  his  cleverDess,  his  temporarj  successes,  must  be  fairly 
exhibited.  This  will  not  lead  a  discriminatiiig  mind  into  error ; 
but  mauy  young  tfnd  untrained  minds  will  admire  the  hero,  and 
forget  that  he  is  a  rogue.  His  clevemess  and  success  captivate 
their  attention;  their  sympathies  are  enlisted  on  his  side,  and 
they  feel,  not  satisfaction,  but  regret  when  they  see  the  failure  of 
his  cunning  plot.  I  see  no  way  of  avoiding  this  evil ;  fof  if  you 
make  the  drama  a  school  for  popular  instruction,  you  injure  its 
character  as  a  work  of  art' 

It  can  hardly  be  said  that  Schillefr  fairly  met  these  practical 
objections.  His  own  ideal  theory,  which  led  both  to  the  defects 
of  his  Dan  Carias  and  to  the  success  of  his  WUhelm  Tellf  was  not 
realised  at  Mannheim.  Several  disagreeable  circumstances  there 
induced  him  to  leave  the  town  in  1785.  He  was  then  thinking  o^ 
forsaking  poetry,  and  of  devoting  his  attention  to  law  studies, 
when  he  received  aid  from  one  of  the  best  of  friends — ^Eomer,  the 
father  of  the  young  poet  who  fell  in  the  war  of  liberation.  It  was 
one  of  the  finest  traits  of  these  times  that  men  who  had  literary 
taste  but  no  great  mental  power  found  delight  in  aidmg  men  of 
genius.  Such  friends  of  poets  we  have  alrcady.seeu  in  Bodnier 
and  father  Gleim,  and  Korner  was  one  of  the  noblest  men  of  this 
cla^ts.  Wherever  the  name  of  Schiller  is  known,  that  of  Korner 
will  not  be  forgotten.  It  was  by  the  aid  of  this  friend  that  the 
poet  was  enabled  to  live  and  pursue  his  studies  in  the  neighbour- 
hoods of  Leipzig  and  Dresden,  from  1785  to  1787,  when  he  went 
to  Weimar.  Here  he  was  kindly  received  by  Herder  and  Wiehind. 
Goethe  was  then  travelling  in  Italy,  but,  soon  after,  his  return, 
gained  for  Schiller  an  appointment  (at  first,  without  any  salary) 
as  professor  of  history  at  Jena.  There  was  no  remarkable  kindness 
in  this  action ;  Goethe  was,  at  that  time,  no  admirer  of  Schiller's 
writings,  and,  for  several  years  afterwards,  the  two  poets,  though 
meeting  now  and  then,  remained  almost  strangers  to  each  other. 

Jena,  the  common  University  for  five  little  states,  could  not 
then  afibrd  to  pay  an  extra  professor  of  history ;  although,  un^er 
the  Duke  of  Weimar's  care,  the  place  was  becoming  celebrated 
as  a  centre  of  learning.  It  had  been,  in  old  times,  noted  for  the 
poverty  of  professors,  and  the  rude  manners  of  students.  Young 
Gottingen  (founded  in  1784)  was  the  most  orderly  of  the  uni- 
versities, '  because  the  students  there  had  no  rules ; '  in  other  words, 
no  bad,  old  tiaditions.     At  Jena  amufling  stories  were  told  of 


XXI.]  *Dro  HOREN/  SOS 

students  '  in  the  good  old  times ; '  of  their  scanty  wordxobsi ;  of  their 
dressing  up  one  old  professor  so  as  to  make  him  like  a  scarecrow, 
and  of  their  duels  fought  in  the  market-place,  close  to  the  town- 
hsll,  where. the  magistrates  were  sitting.  Some  traces  of  these 
mahoers  remained  in  Schiller's  lime  and  afterwards,  until  the 
sturdy  patriot  and  philosopher,  Fiohtk,  came  as  a  reformer  to  Jen% 
and  then,  some  unruly  spirits  gave  trouhle  to  the  man  whose 
will  was  as  firm  as  steel.  But  Jena,  near  the  dose  of  the  century, 
was  assuming  an  adv^ced  position  in  learning  and  philosophy, 
and,  in-the  course  of  a  few  years,  there  came  hither  such  men  as 
Woltmann,  Schelling,  Hegel,  the  brothers  Schlegel,  and  the 
brothers  Humboldt.  Here  the  Romantic  School,  of  which  we 
have  soon  to  teU,  was  founded^  and.  here  was  fostered  the  desire 
for  national  unity  and  independence  that  had  for  its  result  the 
war  of  liberation.  Schiller  might  well  feel  ecnzious  about  the 
reception  of  his  first  lecture ;  for  he  was  modest  enough  to  believe 
that  his  own  knowledge  of  history  hardly  equalled  what  might  be 
found  among  the  students.  His  fears  were,  however,  soon  dissi- 
pated ;  the  lecthre-room  engaged  for  his  use  was  found  too  small ; 
the  largest  hall  in  Jena  was  crowded  and  the  students  gave  a 
serenade  to  cheer  the  new  professor. 

At  Jena  the  poet  devoted  his  days  (and  too  great  a  part  of  his 
nights)  to  historical  and  philosophical  studies,  which  were  relieved 
by  holidays  spent  at  Rndolstadt,  where  he  became  acquainted  with 
Charlotte  von  Lengenfeld  whom  he  married  in  1790.  He  had 
now  obtained  a  small  salary  and  had  hopes  of  improving  his 
circumstances.  His  happiness  was  interrupted  in  1793  by  a 
fiiilure  of  health,  which  compelled  him  to  seek  repose  in  a  visit  to 
his  parents— still  living  near  Stuttgart 

In  1794  SohiUer  issued  the  prospectus  of  a  new  literary  journal — 
Die  JSTorwt— and  invited  the  aid  of  many  oontributors,  induding 
Goethe,  Garve,  Engel,  Herder,  and  the  venerable  septuagenarians, 
Kant  and  Klopstock.  The  editor  was  disappointed  in  some  of  his 
expectations  when  the  journal  appeared  in  1795.  The  literature 
of  Die  Raren  was  too  good  for  the  public,  and  Schiller's  philoso- 
phical articles  were  too  far  advanced  to  suit  the  taste  of  minor 
literary  men.  Schiller  soon  heard  disrespectful  remarks  on  his 
enterprise  and  read  unfavourable  criticisms  on  his  own  contri- 
butions. Of  these  matters  he  conversed  often  with  Goethe,  (whose 
friendship  he  had  gained  in  1794),  and  the  two  poets  resolved  to 


808  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURR  [Ca. 

reply  by  pdblishiag  the  Xetdenf  a  series  of  epigrams  briefly  noticed 
in  a  preceding  chapter.  They  were  planned  in  1795  and  appeared 
in  Schiller's  new  journal,  the  Musenalmanachy  in  1797.  The 
allied  poets — now  converted  into  satirists — gained,  at  the  time,  more 
fame  by  these  epigrams  than  by  their  better  writings,  and  were 
respected,  because  they  were  feared.  Among  all  the  literary  men 
who  were  offended  by  the  Xaiden  the  most  respectable  writer  was 
Herder.  He  had,  for  some  time,  lived  apart  from  close  sympathy 
with  Qoethe,  and  had  no  cordial  liking  for  ^chiller.  The  Xenwny 
though  they  now  seem  mild  specimens  of  satire,  were  sA  offensive 
to  Herder  that  he  never  forgave  the  writers.  The  sense  of  the 
importance  of  literature  and  of  the  dignity  of  men  of  genius  that 
once  prevailed  in  Weimar,  Jena,  and  other  places  seems  now  to 
belong  to  a  world  that  has  passed  away.  It  was  a  genial  time 
when  the  Xenien  appeared;  but  a  tone  of  youthful  exaggeration 
in  praising  one  another  prevailed  among  literary  men.  They 
cared  more  for  sentiments  than  for  what  are  called  the  stem 
realities  of  life,  and  they  would  accept  compliments  that  now 
appear  too  much  like  irony.  Men  who  could  be  pleased  by  gross 
flattery  were  easily  mortified  by  such  satire  as  the  Xenien  con- 
tained. 

Schiller  remained  an  invalid  during  the  later  years  of  his  life, 
and  this  fact  makes  his  success  ia  literature  more  remarkable. 
His  consciousness  of  a  duality  in  his  existence — of  warfare  between 
the  mind  and  body — ^is  reflected  in  several  of  his  letters.  There 
WAS  a  discord  in  his  life  that  would  be  resolved  only  in  the  grave. 
He  expressed  it  when  he  exclaimed,  'Miserable  man!  with 
thoughts  and  hopes  soaring  to  the  heavens,  yet  tied  down  to  this 
clod  of  earth ;  this  tiresome  clock-work  of  the  body  I ' — In  one  of 
his  letters  to  Goethe  he  writes : — '  Now  I  have  attained  such 
intellectual  clearness  and  have  established  in  my  mind  such 
principles  of  art,  that  I  might — if  spared — do  something  great  and 
good,  my  physical  constitution  is  threatened  by  decay.  Well;  if  it 
must  be  so~if  the  house  must  fall  to  ruins — I  have  rescued  from 
the  fall  all  that  is  worth  saving.'  * 

Goethe  and  Schiller  were  as  strongly  contrasted  in  their  physical 
as  in  their  intellectual  characteristics.  The  former,  though  he 
had  his  share  of  work  and  care,  controlled  his  literary  and  other 
labours,  so  that  they  harmonized  with  health.  His  life  was,  on 
the  whole,  a  sunmier*8  day ;  Schiller's  career  was  vexed  with  clouds 


XXL]  MADAME  DB  STASL.  307 

and  storms.  Goethe  travelled  along  a  smooth  road^  and  the  quiet 
scenery  of  his  journey  was  mirrored  in  the  repose  of  his  features. 
Schiller  was  a  striving  man,  and  his  harsh  and  worn  countenance 
told  of  the  time  when  the  world  was  not  his  friend.  Ooethe  found 
poetry  as  if  it  had  been  already  created  for  his  enjoyment,  when- 
ever he  had  leisure  for  contemplation.  Nature  seemed  to  bestow 
upon  him  all  that  he  asked  for.  Schiller  had  to  work  and  fight  to 
attain  his  idenl  objects,  and  the  strife  gave  a  stem  expression  to 
his  face.  '  Except  the  eyes,  there  is  nothing  soft  or  gentle  in  his 
face,'  said  Goethe.  But,  however  differing  in  these  and  other 
respect,  the  two  poets  were  firm  friends,  and  their  friendship  had 
better  results  than  could  have  followed  rivalry. 

In  1705-1800  Schiller  wrote  his  finest  ballads,  each  inspired  by 
some  noble  idea,  and  his  most  elaborate  dram%  Wallenstein.  In 
1800  he  went  to  reside  at  Weimar,  and,  in  the  same  year,  wrote 
the  drama  *  Maria  Stuart,*  which  was  followed  by  '  The  Maid  of 
Orleans '  (1801).  i  The  Bride  of  Messina '  appeared  in  1808.  In 
the  same  year,  the  poet  was  occupied  on  his  drama  of  WUfidm 
Tell  and  went,  sometimes,  with  Goethe  to  Jena,  where  they  often 
met  Hegel,  for  whose  character  and  powers  of  mind  Schiller  had 
a  high  respect.  '  I  can  excuse,'  he  said, '  Hegel's  want  of  facility 
in  expression,  on  account  of  his  depth  and  earnestness.' 

In  the  winter  of  the  same  year,  Schiller  received  modestly  the 
homage  paid  to  him  by  Madame  de  Stael,  during  her  visit  to 
Weimar.  As  Goethe  was  indisposed  at  the  time,  his  friend  was 
called  upon  to  exercise  his  slight  ability  in  French  conversation, 
in  order  to  entertain  '  the  most  fluent,  vivacious,  and  controversial 
of  all  talkers ' — so  the  poet  described  his  visitor.  <  In  her  company,' 
said  he,  ^  the  whole  man  ought  to  be  converted  into  an  organ  of 
hearing,  in  order  to  keep  pace  with  her.'  •  •  .  'She  would 
explain,  see  through,  measure  and  define  everything.'  ...  '  She 
knows  nothing  whatever  of  poetry,  in  our  sense  of  the  word.'  •  .  • 
'  Where  her  torch  can  cast  no  light,  there  is  nothing  existing  for 
her.'  ...  '  She  made  me  more  contented  than  ever  to  remain  a 
German.' 

Of  Schiller's  talents  in  conversation  Madame  de  Stael  wrote 
thus : — '  He  reads  French  very  well;  but  he  has  never  been  accus- 
tomed to  talk  in  onr  language.  I  warmly  asserted  the  superiority 
of  our  own  dramatic  system  over  all  others.  He  bad  to  contend 
with  a  slow  utterance  and  a  diliiculty  in  finding  French  words  to 

x2 


308  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cir. 

express  his  ideas;  "but  "without  feftring  the  opinions  of  the  audience, 
which  were  opposed  to  his  own,  he  was  ready  to  meet  me  in 
controversy ;  indeed,  his  earnest  convictions  compelled  him  to 
ppsak.  At  first  I  used  against  him  our  French  weapons — vivacity 
and  pleaaantry — ^but  I  soon  discovered  such  a  fulness  of  thought 
amid  all  the  emharrassment  of  his  words  ;  I  was  so  much  impressed 
hy  the  simplicity  of  character  that  led  a  man  of  genius  to  enter 
into  a  dispute,  though  he  wanted  language  to  express  himself;  I 
found  him  so  modest;  so  careless  ahout  his  own  success  in  the 
ar^rument,  hut  so  firm  and  animated  in  the  defence  of  what  he 
believed  to  be  true — that  I  devoted  to  him,  at  once,  a  friendship 
full  of  admiration.' — Was  this  friendship  anything  more  than  ar 
sensation  of  tiiumph  in  the  exhihition  of  a  fluent  eloquence  P 

Six  years  later,  Madame  de  Stael  published,  in  her  work  De 
rAUemoffnef  her  observations  on  Germany,  its  general  literature, 
poetry,  fine  arts,  morals,  manners,  religion  and  system?  of  philo- 
sophy. In  the  compilation  of  this  book  she  was,  no  doubt,  greatly 
indebted  to  her  friend  August  Wilhelm  von  Schlegel,  who,  for 
Feveral  years,  resided  or  travelled  with  her.  A  glance  at  the 
chapters  on  philosophy  and  on  classical  and  romantic  poetry  may 
suffice  to  show  that  Madame  de  Stael  was  not  the  sole  author  of 
the  book.  To  prove  that  she  might  have  been,  it  has  heen  said 
(and,  no  douht,  truly)  that  she  often  contradicted  Schlegel,  and 
controverted  his  judguients  on  departments  of  literature  and 
philosophy  with  which  he  was  very  well  acquainted.  But  it  is 
ohvious  that  she  might  do  all  this,  and,  at  the  same  time,  use  very 
freely  the  resources  of  his  extensive  reading.  Her  hook — noticeahle 
as  the  first  that  offered  to  French  readers  a  tolerably  fair  account 
of  German  literature — was  seized  by  the  police  of  Napoleon  I.  in 
1810,  and  the  writet  received  orders  to  quit  France  at  a  day's 
notice.  The  agent  in  this  transaction  addressed  to  the  authoress 
a  note  containing  these  remarks : — '  It  appears  to  me  that  the  air 
of  our  country  does  not  agree  well  with  you ;  and  on  our  part  it 
may  be  added,  that  we  are  not  yet  reduced  to  the  necessity  of 
looking  for  models  among  the  people  whom  you  admire.  Your 
last  work  is  not  French.  I  have  confiscated  the  whole  impression, 
and  am  sorry  that  this  must  he  a  loss  to  your  publisher ;  but  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  allow  the  hook  to  appeal*.' 

To  return  to  Schiller — ^in  1804,  while  in  failing  health,  he 
completed  his  last  and  most  successful  play,  WUhdm  TclL    The 


XXI.]  UBEBTY.  809 

acclamations  with  which  it  was  received  seem  exaggerated  to 
English  readers ;  for  men  who  have  never  been  weary  of  a  long 
night  cannot  know  how  beautiful  the  first  streak  of  dawn  appears. 
What  did  the  poet  say  for  national  freedom  P — Nothing  more  than 
what  had  been  said  before*  But  the  question  should  be  rather — 
When  did  he  say  it  P — In  1804 — ^near  the  midnight-hour  of 
national  degradation  (1806).  To  say  nothing  of  the  petty  states 
— ^the  want  of  union  between  Prussia  and  Austria  had  destroyed 
all  hopes  of  liberty.  In  Austria  the  liberal  measures  of  Joseph  IL 
had  been  repealed,  and  ignorance  and  bigotry  were  made  the 
baaes  of  a  restored  despotism.  In  Prussia  men  were  resting  un- 
der the  shadow  of  a  name — Friedrich  II. ;  but  the  spirit  of 
the  king  had  left  the  land.  There  were  men  who  called  them- 
selves patriots;  but  their  plans  had  t\o  practical  value.  Others 
— like  the  rhetorical  historian,  Miiller— were  easily  made  apo- 
states, and  bestowed  adulation  on  the  despot,  while  there  were 
enthusiasts  who,  even  then,  had  hardly  awakened  from  their 
dreams  of  enjoying  liberty  without  national  honour. 

Literary  men  had  talked^wildly  of  a  Utopia  coming  from  the 
clouds — or  from  Paris — and  students  at  universities  had  amused 
themselves  by  planting  dead  *  trees  of  liberty.'  .  A  tale  was  told 
in  1793,  that  Schelling  and  Hegel,  then  young  philosophers  at 
Tiibingen,  planted  one  of  the  barren  emblems  in  a  meadow  by  the 
Neckar!  Another  version  asserts  that  Hegel — a  grim  Jacobin, 
only  twenty- two  years  old— performed,  with  the  aid  of  his  friend, 
Holderlin,  a  frantic  dance  about  a  liberty-tree  set  up  for  the 
occasion  in  the  market-place  at'Tiibingen. 

Schiller  also  dreamed  in  his  youth ;  but  he  awakened  early. — 
'  The  French  Republic  will  pass  away,'  said  he,  ^  as  suddenly  as  it 
arose.  It  will  pass  into  anarchy,  and  this  will  end  in  submission 
to  a  despot,  who  will  extend  his  sway  over  the  greater  part  of 
£nrope.' — It  may  be  suggested  that,  possibly,  the  poet's  wife,  who 
recorded  this  prediction,  might  make  some  mistake  with  regard  to 
its  date ;  for  she  quotes  the  words  as  if  they  had  been  uttered  in 
1794.  Yet  Schiller  had  then  read  enough  of  Kant's  moral  philo- 
sophy to  know  that  freedom  must  be  founded  on  morality  and 
that  morality  must  be  founded  on  religion.  In  his  later  years  he 
was  a  true  enthusiast  in  the  service  of  freedom.  He  had  seen  the 
errors  of  a  vapid  cosmopolitanism,  and  had  learned  that  good-will 
for  men  of  all  nations  must  have  its  centre  at  home^  and  bo 


810  OUTLINES  OF  GEIDIAN  LITEEATUBE.  [Oh. 

united  with  a  supreme  care  for  national  honour.  His  later  works 
maintain  the  doctrine  that  virtue,  patriotism  and  true  freedom 
are  inseparahle.  Sympathy  with  his  patriotic  enthusiasm  con- 
spired with  admiration  of  his  poetic  genius  to  make  his  name 
more  and  more  popular  near  the  close  of  his  life  and  after  his 
decease.  His  fellow-countrymen  then  understood  the  tendency 
of  his  hest  works,  to  cherish  a  love  of  unitive  freedom  and 
national  honour.  People  had  called  him  'an  idealist*  and  'a 
visionary.'  He  was,  indeed,  possessed  hy  two  or  thi'ee  ideas ;  hut 
these  were  so  true  and  so  powerful  that  they  insisted  on  heing 
converted  into  realities.  The  idea  of  liherty,  pronounced,  at  first, 
so  crudely  in  ^  The  Rohbers,'  was  more  and  mora  purified  and 
ennobled,  as  it  passed  through  other  forms  of  expression) — in 
Fiescoy  Kabtde  %md  Liehe^  Don  Carlos,  WaUenstein  and  *  The  Maid 
of  Orleans ' — until,  at  last,  it  shone  forth  splendidly  in  WUheltn 
Tell,  as  a  prophecy  of  coming  liberation. 

'  Thousands  who  trembled  not  when  the  earth  groaned  under 
the  weight  of  the  despot's  mailed  caTaliy ;  men  who,  with  fearless 
hearts,  confronted  the  thunders  of  his  artillery ;  thousands  who 
fell  to  be  mingled  with  the  ensanguined  soil,  on  so  many  battle- 
fields ; — all  carried  with  them  into  the  struggle  the  enthusiasm 
kiodled  by  Schiller^s  poetry ;  his  songs  were  on  their  lips,  and  his 
Spirit  fought  along  with  them  I — And  if  the  time  come  again 
when  such  sacrifices  shall  be  demanded — for  Fatherland,  for 
morals  and  laws,  for  truth — the  poetry  of  Schiller  shall  once  more 
inspire  us,  and  his  burning  words  shall  be  our  battle-cry  1 ' 

The  above  quotation  from  a  speech  delivered  by  Friedrich 
Yischer,  at  the  centenary  festival  of  Schiller^s  birthday  (1859), 
may  serve  to  express  the  enthusiasm  awakened  in  Germany  by  the 
patriotism  and  poetxe  genius  so  well  united  in  the  poet's  last 
drama. 

In  the  spring  of  1804  and  after  a  virit  to  Berlin,  the  poet  suf- 
fered sgain  from  a  seVcre  attack  of  his  constitutional  malady, 
pulmonary  consumption,  from  which  he  only  faintly  rallied ;  and, 
about  a  year  afterwards,  the  disease  returned  with  fatal  power. 
On  April  28,  1805,  he  was  seized  with  fever,  and  lay  for  about  a 
week,  still  cherishing  hopes  of  life.  On  May  6  he  fell  into  de- 
lirium. On  the  7th  he  seemed  restored  to  self-possession,  and 
began  to  converse  with  his  sistei^in-law  on '  the  nature  of  tragedy.' 
Fearing  the  excitement  of  his  ruling  passion,  she  exhorted  him  to 


* 


XXI.]  SCHILLER'S  DEATH.  811 

be  quiet.  'True/  he  replied,  'now,  when  no  one  undeTstonda 
me,  and  I  no,  more  understand  myself,  it  is  better  that  I  should  be 
silent.' 

At  the  beginning  of  this  illness  he  had  regretted  the  interrup- 
tion it  must  occasion  to  his  projected  tragedy  of  *  Demetrius.'  On 
the  night  of  the  7th,  the  servant,  watching  by  his  bed,  heard  him 
reciting  several  lines  from  the  drama  upon  which  his  mind  was 
still  engaged.  In  the  momiug,  he  called  for  his  infant  daughter, 
gazed  upon  her  face,  kissed  her,  and  wept  bitterly.  In  the  even- 
ing of  the  same  day,  when  his  sister-in-law  asked  him  how  he 
felt,  he  answered,  '  Better  and  more  cheerful.'  Then  he  longed 
to  behold,  once  more,  the  setting  sun;  they  drew  aside  the 
curtains  and  he  looked,  for  the  last  time,  with  a  poet's  sympathy, 
on  the  great  light.  As  after  a  cloudy  afternoon  there  comes, 
sometimes,  a  short  season  of  splendour,  just  before  sunset ;  so  it 
seemed,  on  Schiller's  death-bed,  that  the  character  of  the  man, 
the  father,  and  the  poet  was  allowed  to  shine  out  for  a  few 
moments  between  the  clouds  of  delirium  and  the  darkness  of 
death.  The  next  day  he  was  exhausted  and  speechless,  and  in 
the  evening  he  breathed  his  last. 

Goethe  was  ill  at  the  time  of  his  Mend's  departure,  and  none 
durst  tell  the  news.  He  observed  the  embam&ssment  of  his  friends 
and  servants,  and  feared  to  demand  the  whole  truth.  The 
members  of  his  household  heard  their  master,  so  remarkable  for 
his  control  of  feeling,  secretly  weeping.  On  the  next  morning  he 
asked, '  Was  not  Schiller  very  ill  yesterday  P '  A  silence  followed. 
*  He  is  dead  I '  said  Goethe,  and  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hands. 

So  died  Friedrich  Schiller,  aged  forty-five  years.  His  life  was 
short ;  but  it  was  a  life,  not  a  sleep.  He  had  devoted  himself  to 
a  great  object,  to  win  a  high  place  among  the  poets  and  intelleo- 
tual  heroes  of  his  country ;  he  used  the  means  of  attaining  this 
end  f  he  studied  long  and  felt  deeply,  esteeming  his  vocation  more 
than  his  earthly  life — and  he  gained  his  object ;  he  was  crowned 
with  more  than  the  admiration,  with  the  love  of  his  people,  and 
died  as  he  touched  the  goal. 

'  He  lived  as  a  Man,  and  as  a  mature  Man  he  departed  from  us. 
In  that  form  in  which  one  leaves  the  earth  he  still  lives  and 
moves  for  us  in  the  world  of  spirits.  Achilles  is,  for  us,  still 
present  as  an  evex^^triving  youth.  That  Schiller  went  away 
early  is  for  us  also  a  gain.    From  his  tomb-  there  comes  to 


812  OUTUNES  OF  aSBMAK  UTERAtXTEE.  [Ch. 

HB  an  impulse,  Btreogtiiening  us,  as  with  the  breath  of  his  own 
might,  and  awakening  a  most  eaxnest  longing  to  fulfil,  lovingly 
and  more  and  more,  the  work  that  he  began.    So,  in  all  that  he 
willed  to  do,  and  in  all  that  he  fulfilled,  he  shall  live  on,  for  ever, 
for  his  own  nation  and  for  mankind.' 
Thus  GoxTHB  spoke  of  his  departed  friend,  Schillibb. 
The  question  sometimes  discussed  by  young  students,  'Whether 
Schiller  or  Gk)ethe  is  the  greater  poet  P '  was  long  ago  answered 
by  the  younger  poet,  who  was  '  too  clear-sighted  and  modest '  (as 
Mr.  Carlyle  has  obseryed)  to  claim  eqiiality  with  his  friend.    The 
breadth  of  mind  and  the  comprehensiye  sympathy  of  Goethe  were 
—we  might  almost  venture  to  say — excessive.    In  Schiller's  mind 
the  height  is  more  remarkable  than  the  expanse.    In  Goethe's 
best  poems  art  and  nature,  thought  and  its  symbol,  are  united, 
fused  and  welded  together.    In  Schiller's  poetry  we  find  division ; 
there  is  a  \isible  strife  between  the  thought  and  its  symbol    The 
idea  seems  to  be  discontented  vnth  its  incorporation,  and  endea- 
▼oun,  again  and  again,  to  assert  itself  in  an  abstract  form.    The 
poet  first  fixes  his  attention  on  some  noble  thought,  and  then 
proceeds  to  find  imagery  for  its  expression;  but,  after  all  his 
endeavour,  the  thought  is  left  too  often  solitary  or  abstract,  as  if 
too  pure  and  high  to  be  incorporated.    This  abstract  elevation 
may  be  seen  in  the  drama  of  Don  Carlos  \  especially  in  the  con- 
versation between  Philip  TI.  and  the  Marquis  of  Posa.    Here,  as 
in  many  other  passages,  we  are  reminded,  that  the  writer  was 
not  contented  with  his  vocation  as  a  poet;  he  vmhed  to  analyse 
and  systematise  his  thoughts,  and  he  had  an  earnest  desire  to 
teach. 

How  lofty  his  thoughts  of  his  own  duty  were,  may  be  seen  in 
a  passage  from  his  '  Letters  on  .^thetic  Education '  which  has 
been  often  quoted,  but  is  too  charaicteristic  to  be  omitted  here : — 
^  The  Artist  is  the  eon  of  his  time,  but  it  is  not  good  for  him  that 
he  should  be  its  pupil  or  even  its  favourite.  Let  some  beneficimt 
divinity  snatch  him,  while  he  is  a  suckling,  from  the  maternal 
bosom,  that,  under  a  distant,  Grecian  sky,  he  may  be  nurtured  with 
the  milk  of  a  better  time.  And  when  he  has  arrived  at  maturity, 
let  him  return  to  his  own  .centuiy  and  appear  there,  not  to  give 
pleasure  to  his  cotemporaries,  but^like  Agamemnon's  son — ^to 
chasten  and  to  purify  them.' — ^To  understand  the  force  of  these 
expressions  we  most  re£er  to  the  low  literature  of  the  times  when 


^2CXI.]  SCHILLER'S  IDEALISM.  313 

Kotzebue  ruled  in  the  theatre  and  Clatiren  supplied  novels  and 
romances  for  crowda  of  readers. 

Schiller's  endeavour  to  avoid  all  that  is  common  and  mean  led 
him  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  ideal  abstraction.  His  views  of 
human  life  were  lofty,  but  were  not  comprehensive.  If  he  did  not 
despise,  he  neglected  to  study,  many  common,  lowly  realities.  His 
poetry  is  therefore  the  antithesis  of  such  poetry  as  was  vmtten  by 
our  English  realist— George  Crabbe.  *  Nature's  sternest  painter ' 
could  look  on  life  with  a  poet's  eye — as  his  story  of  *  The  Lover's 
Journey'  might  prove — but  he  would  not  describe  either  an 
Arcadia  or  a  Utopia  as  possible  in  a  world  like  this.  As  he 
travelled  through  life,  he  stayed  to  look  into  workhouses,  prisons, 
and  '  the  huts  where  poor  men  lie,'  and  he  became  so  much  in- 
terested in  his  duties  as  an  inspector  of  miseries,  that  he  forgot 
all  about  Utopia.  His  poor  people  hardly  ever  look  up  to 
heaven.  Crabbe  lived  in  the  present,  and  looked  around  on  the 
objects — the  hard  facts — presented  by  every-day  life;  Schiller 
looked  around  him,  but  more  frequently,  upwards  and  onwaitls, 
as  we  see  him  in  one  of  his  portraits.  He  despised,  or  he  defied 
low  realities,  and  boldly  uttered  his  belief  that,  after  all  the 
failures  of  which  history  is  the  record,  men  shall  enjoy,  first  moral, 
then  political  and  social  freedom.  The  poet  who  will  pass  through 
all  Crabbe':)  realism  and  arrive  at  Schiller's  idealism  will  be  a  new 
phenomenon  in  literature. 

The  difierences  of  intellect  and  character  existing  between 
Schiller  and  Goethe  have  been  accurately  described  by  German 
critics ;  but  the  agreement  of  the  two  poets  in  their  thoughts  of 
the  vocation  of  literature  has  hardly  received  due  attention.  One 
of  the  objects  professed  by  the  writers  of  the  Romantic  School; 
who  made  themselves  prominent  near  the  close  of  Schiller's  life, 
was  to  dissert  that  literature  and  art  (including  poetiy)  should  be 
closely  united  with  a  religious  faith  and  with  the  institutions  of 
practical  life.  To  find  such  a  union,  they  proposed  to  do  that 
which  was  utterly  impossible — to  return  to  the  social  circum- 
stances of  the  middle  ages.  Both  Goethe  and  Schiller  had 
thoughts  and  hopes  of  a  more  harmonious  world  than  the  present; 
but  they  looked  forward  and  into  the  future  for  the  realisation 
of  their  hopes.  Their  views  of  the  progress  of  society  were  far 
in  advance  of  the  notions  prevalent  in  their  times.  Apathy  had, 
too  generally;  foUowt^d  the  great  failure  of  the  Revolution  and; 


814.  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  £Ch. 

(as  Schiller  said)  men  wlio  had  been  '  terrified  bj  freedom  assert- 
ing itself  as  negation  and  destruction  were  too  ready  to  fall  into 
the  arms  of  any  protecting  despotism.'  But,  against  all  the  dis- 
*  couragements  of  that  age,  the  poet  of  freedom  maintained  his  own 
faith,  and  there  was  more  sobriety  in  his  doctrine  than  in  such  as 
had  been  taught  by  some '  philosophers '  of  the  eighteenth  century ; 
for  he  held  that  freedom  could  never  come  from  without  to  any  man 
or  to  any  nation.  So  lofty,  however,  was  the  poet's  notion  of  the 
culture  which  he  styled  aesthetic  that  he  made  it— though  not  a 
substitute  for  morality— a  most  important  aid  for  the  renovation 
of  society.  It  may  be  asked,  Did  Schiller  give  due  attention  to 
the  historical  fact,  that  the  idea  of  freedom  for  all  men  was  first 
introduced  to  the  world  by  the  Christian  Religion  P  However 
that  may  be,  the  poet — like  his  friend  Goethe — had  no  faith  in 
any  such  changes  as  can  be  produced  by  external  and  superficial 
politics.  He  was,  after  all  that  has  been  said  of  his  idealism, 
more  practical  than  some  grave  men  who  have  talked  derisively 
of  'dreamers.'  The  writer  of  such  poems  as  the  'Eleusinian 
Festival '  and  the  '  Song  of  the  Bell '  suggested  a  future  poetry  in 
harmony  with  life  and  culture.  He  endeavoured  to  widen  his 
own  sympathies,  when  he  came  near  to  the  close  of  his  career 
and  was  fully  conscious  of  his  own  defects. 

From  his  philosophical  essays  and  letters,  his  poems  and  his 
life,  there  shines  out  a  noble  ideal  of  a  poet's  mission.  He  must 
not  be  content  (as  we  understand  Schiller)  either  with  dreams  or 
with  the  so-called  realities  of  the  present,  and  he  must  not  think 
that  his  duty  is  fulfilled  by  declamation  against  the  errors  and 
miseries  of  the  world.  He  must  feel  that  the  genius  which 
inspires  him  is  the  true  catholic  element  of  human  nature  and  pene- 
trates the  souls  of  alL  He  must  be  content  to  see  those  visions 
of  beauty  which  his  songs  anticipate — ^not  coming  with^  sudden 
and  triumphant  fulfilment  of  the  hopes  and  desires  of  prophets  in 
all  ages ;  but  slowly  breaking  through  the  clouds  of  dark  and 
painful  rtalities,  beaming  forth  gently  as  the  morning  light,  and 
shining  more  and  more  to  the  perfect  day.  He  must  neither 
forfeit  the  real  nor  the  ideal ;  but  must  see  good  in  the  contradic- 
tion between  them,  as  it  is  the  condition  of  faith,  constancy, 
activity,  and  enterprise.  He  must  not  hope  to  live  in  a  region  of 
indolent  contemplation,  where  beauty  and  poetry  and  truth  will 


XXI.]  SCHILLEB'S  INFLUENCE.  815 

be  found  ready-made  all  around  him ;  but  lie  must  feel  that  he 
is  called  to  be  a  maker — to 

Stifle  the  contrsdictions  of  his  fate. 
And  to  one  purpose  deave-^his  being's  godlike  mate. 

The  influence  of  a  sincere  and  genial  literature  is  wanted  to 
soften  the  contradictions  which  exist  between  our  poetry  and  our 
actual  life,  our  best  faith  and  our  practice;  and,  to  fulfil  his 
duty  in  promoting  such  a  literature,  the  man  endowed  with 
the  gift  of  song  must  add  to  the  power  of  imagination  the  virtues 
of  faith,  fortitude,  and  patience,  and,  in  short,  must  strive  to  be  a 
good  man  as  well  as  a  great  poet.  That  endeavour  made  Schiller 
node. 

To  conclude— he  was  eminently  an  ideal  poet,  but  facts  should 
reprove  the  error  of  taking  the  word  ideal  as  always  a  synonyme 
for  unpractical.  The  true  ideal  is  spiritual  and  operative.  In- 
tense thoughts  are  just  as  expansive  as  they  are  intense,  and  lofty 
aims  are— like  lights  on  high  towers — seen  at  a  great  distance. 
To  descend  to  facts — the  influence  of  Schiller's  poetry  on  the 
characters  of  young  men  in  Germany  has  been  so  important,  and 
is  BO  closely  united  with  the  memory  of  his  life,  that  this  sketch 
of  his  biography  can  hardly  be  out  of  place  here.  There  is  no 
modem  writer  to  whom  the  young  men  of  the  German  Empire 
are  so  much  indebted  as  to  Fbiebbich  Schtlt.br. 


816  OITTLIIirES  OF  GERMAN  LITE&A.TX7BE.  [Ch. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 
BBVENTH  PERIOD.    1770-1630. 

SCHILLBB's  inUTIKGfl : — *  tee  SOBBEBS  ' — '  FIBSOO  ' — 'nVTSIOTTB  ak5 
LOTB' — 'DON  GAJRLOS' — HZSTOBICiJ.  STUDEBS — ^£8TKBTIC8 — BALIAD8 
— LTBICAL  POBHB — ^POEXS  ON  THB  HIOTOBT  OF  CULTDBB — ^LATKR 
DSAKAS: — *  VAIXBNSTBIK ' — 'MAJSIA  STUABT' — 'THB  VkID  OF  OB- 
LEAKS '^'TBB  BBIDB  OF  1CB66IKA  ' — '  WILHIELM  TBIX/ 

ScHiLLZB^B  writings  belong  respectively  to  three  periods  in  his 
short  life : — ^youth,  middle  life,  and  the  last  decennium.  The 
lyrical  poems  and  the  dramas  of  his  early  life  are  his  weakest 
productions.  After  years  of  wandering  and  striving  against  poverty, 
he  cast  poetiy  aside  and  studied  history  and  philosophy.  Then 
followed  a  happier  time — the  last  ten  or  eleven  years  of  his  life — 
during  which  he  wrote  his  best  dramas  and  the  well-known  series 
of  ballads. 

Schiller  sympathised;  as  we  have  said,  with  the  revolutionary 
tendency  of  the  time  in  which  his  youth  was  passed.  Like  some 
older  men,  he  protested  against  all  existing  institutions  and  gained 
popularity  by  the  use  of  violent  declamation.  There  was'n<^  truth 
in  the  characters  described  in  his  first  three  dramas.  Men  were 
absurdly  divided  into  two  classes; — noble  spirits  on  the  right 
hand,  and  fiends  on  the  left.  A  wild  craving  for  negative  liberty 
is  the  most  remarkable  trait  in  '  The  Bobbers '  and  in  '  Fiesco/ 
and  the  success  of  KahaU  und  Ziehe  ('  Intrigue  and  Love  ')  was 
partly  gained  by  its  attacks  on  the  aristocracy.  These  three  plays 
must  be  judged  as  the  productions  of  a  youth. 

In  the  play  of  'Don  Carlos ' — written  at  various  times  in  1784- 
87 — the  poet  moderated  his  revolutionary  fervour  and  expressed 
ft^wish  to  build  up  rather  than  to  destroy.  Though  defective  in 
unity  and  unfaithful  to  histoiy,  the  drama,  by  its  representation 


XXII.3  'DON  CAEL08.*  3J7 

of  a  noble  but  ideal  obamcter — ^the  Marquis  of  Posa — ^won  tbe 
admiration  of  manj  young  readers. 

The  story  of '  Don  Carlos '  departs  widely  from  historical  facts 
and  is  founded  mostly  on  a  French  work  by  Saint-KM,  which  is 
nothing  more  than  an  historical  romance.  The  Marquis  of  Posa  is 
an  entirely  fictitious  character,  invented  to  give  expression  to  the 
poet's  own  sentiments  on  civil  and  religious  liberty.  In  a  long 
conversation  (Act  iiL  scene  10)  Posa  delivers,  without  interruption 
and  in  the  presence  of  Philip  11.  of  Spain,  a  series  of  lectnzes  on 
the  evil  effects  of  tyranny.  This  is  a  gross  improbability ;  for  it 
is  quite  certain  that  the  hard  and  narrow  bigot  who  causecl  the 
death  of  his  own  son  would  not  have  listened  for  one  moment  to 
such  language  as  is  here  used  by  the  advocate  of  liberty.  Thus, 
for  example,  the  enthusiastic  Marquis  of  Posa  ventures  to  express 
his  sentiments  (or  rather  Schiller's)  in  the  presence  of  Philip 

My  home !  my  fatherland  I — There's  none  for  me. 

Spain  all  belongs  to  you,  and  not  to  Spaniards ; 

'TIS  the  gigantic  body  for  one  mind — 

Yonr  own^throughont  that  body  you  alone^ 

As  omnipresent,  think  and  work  to  make 

Yourself  a  mighty  name ;  yon  flourish  here 

And  none  can  grow  besides  yon.    What  you  give 

Is  but  the  food  to  gladiators  given 

To  make  them  strong  to  fight  for  you.  •  •  « 

Souls  here  can  merely  vegetate  and  die  ; 

Genius  and  virtue  grow  to  be  cut 'down, 

As  corn  grows  yellow  for  the  reaper's  scythe. 

In  this  direct  style  the  Marquis  (or  rather  Schiller  .placing 
himself  in  the  sixteenth  century)  lectures  the  king  for  the  space 
of  about  an  hour^  and  Philip  IL.of  Spain  —  marvellous  to 
say — Glistens  very  patiently  and  is  greatly  edified  I  When  he  has 
heard  the  whole  of  the  long  sermon,  he  graciously  extends  his 
hand  to  be  kissed  by  the  faithful  preacher,  and  invites  him  to  call 
again  as  soon  as  possible.  There  could  hardly  be  a  grosser  con- 
tradiction of  historical  facts.  The  play  contains  eloquent  and 
enthusiastic  passages  of  declamation ;  but  wants  dramatic  life  and 
Unity.  The  interest  which,  in  the  first  three  acts,  has  a  centre  in 
Don  Carlos  is  afterwards  transferred  to  the  imaginary  character  of 
the  Marquis  of  Posa. 

'Schiller's  youthful  and  vsgue  e&thusiasm  ht  liberty  was  mode- 
rated by  his  historical  studies^  of  which  tbe  results  appeared  in  a 


818  OUTLIOTa  OF  GEEMAN  LITBBATUEE.  [Ca. 

< History  of  the  Xtevolt  in  the  Netherlands'  (1788)  and  in  a 
'  History  of  the  Thirty  Years*  War '  (1791-93).  These  writings 
giye  no  proof  of  laborious  research ;  but  advocate  civil  and  re- 
ligious freedom,  and  have  a  tendency  to  support  the  doctrine,  that 
'the  History  of  the  World  is  the  Judgment  of  the  World.'  The 
poet  could  hardly  have  chosen  a  more  difficult  historical  subject 
than  the  Thirty  Years'  War. 

After  his  appointment*  at  Jena  (1789)  Schiller  devoted  not  a 
little  of  his  time  to  a  study  of  Kant*s  philosophical  works,  and  the 
results  of  such  reading  and  meditation  appeared,  in  '  Letters  on 
./Esthetic  Education,'  in  the  Essays  '  On  Grace  and  Dignity/  '  On 
the  Sublime,'  and  'On  Naive  and  Sentimental  Poetry/  and  in 
the  didactic  poem  entitled  'The  Artists.'  One  of  the  poet's 
own  doctrines  is,  that  the  study  of  beauty,  as  revealed  in  art, 
while  it  must  not  be  made  a  substitute  for  moral  training,  may 
render  essential  service  as  an  ally.  The  object  of  ethical  education 
is  to  convert  the  obedience  due  to  an  apparently  stem  law  into  a 
free  expression  of  love.  As  the  ideas  of  goodness  and  beauty  are 
united,  though  distinct,  there  must  be  a  natural  counection  be- 
tween ethical  and  artistic  training,  however  they  may  be  separated 
by  the  errors  and  the  frailties  of  individuals.  Schiller  extended 
to  other  departments  of  art  his  faith  in  the  educational  power  of 
the  drama,  which  he  had  professed  in  the  lecture  delivered  at 
Mannheim  in  1784.  .  That  faith  he  maintained,  even  while  Eotze- 
bue  reigned  in  the  theatre.  Schiller  still  asserted  his  own  ideal 
and  hopeful  doctrine,  and  would  not  be  discouraged  by  looking  on 
realities.  It  must  be  added,  that  his  philosophical  writings  want 
systematic  arrangement  He  criticised  them  fairly  when  he  said : 
*  My  poetry  interferes  with  my  philosophy.' 

He  returned  to  poetry  soon  after  1794,  and  his  finest  ballads 
(written  in  1797-8)  combined  successfully  his  inevitable  didactic 
tendency  with  a  study  of  artistic  form.  Almost  eyery  one  of  the 
series  of  ballads  produced  at  this  time  serves  to  express  and 
illustrate  some  important  thought  or  precept  The  '  Diver '  may 
perhaps  be  mentioned  as  an  exception ;  for  we  would  not  extort 
from  it  such  a  common-place  maxim  as  '  be  not  too  venturesome.' 
The  whole  story  serves,  however,  as  a  symbol  of  perfect  courage ; 
for  the  Diver,  after  he  has  explored  the  horrors  of  the  whirlpool, 
and  has  been  alone^unong  the  monsters  of  the  deep,  plunges*  a 
second  time  into  the  waves  and  returns  no  more.    In  the  equally 


XXII.]  BALLADS.  81 9 

well-known  ballad,  'The  Fight  with  the  Dragon/  the  noble 
illustration  giyen  of  self-conquest,  as  the  greatest  heroism,  might 
have  saved  the  poet  from  the  reproach,  that  ^he  knew  nothing  of 
Christianity.'  The  storj  told  in  this  ballad  is  too  well  known  to 
be  again  narrated  except  in  the  briefest  form ;  but  it  should  be 
noticed  as  showing  that  the  poet  of  liberty  could  write  powerfully 
of  Christian  humility  and  obedience — the  bonds  of  society  and  the 
necessary  attendants  of  true  freedom. 

One  of  the  Knights  of  St.  John  ('named  Dieu-Donn6  de  Gozon/ 
says  Vertot,  in  his  history  of  the  Order)  had,  without  receiving 
or  asking  permission  irom  the  Grand  Master  (Helion  de  Ville- 
n^ve)  sallied  forth  to  attack  a  huge  dragon  which  had  spread 
devastation  over  a  large  district  near  Rhodes.  Dieu-Donn^  had 
employed  every  precaution  to  insure  success  in  bis  bold  adventure. 
To  train  his  charger  and  his  hounds  for  the  combat,  be  employed 
an  artist  to  make  an  image  of  the  monster,  and,  when  the  dogs 
were  accustomed  to  attack  the  hideous  effigy,  they  were  led  out 
against  the  dragon.  The  Knight  returned  victorious,  dragging 
behind  him  the  slain  enemy,  and  accompanied  by  crowds  of  people 
loudly  hailing  their  deliverer.  Meanwhile,  the  Knights  of  the 
Order  were  assembled  in  conclave  in  their  hall,  and,  when  the 
hero  appeared  before  them,  he  received  from  the  Grand  Master  a 
stem  reprimand  for  disobedience,  and  a  command  to  divest  him- 
self of  his  badge  and  to  surrender  all  claims  to  the  honours  of 
Christian  knighthood.  The  crowd  of  people  who  have  pressed 
into  the  hall,  expecting  to  see  some  great  reward  bestowed  on 
their  hero,  stand  in  mute  amazement  when  this  heavy  censure 
falls  upon  him^  and  some  of  his  brethi:en  come  forward  to  plead 
for  grace ;  but  the  penitent  meekly  submits,  takes  off  his  badge, 
and,  before  he  turns  away,  kisses  the  hand  of  the  Grand  Master. 

'  Here  I  to  my  heart  1  *  the  Manter  cries ; 
'  Come  back  I — ^by  deeds  of  valoar  done^ 
Yoa  only  rinked  the  Christian's  prize 
Which  now  your  lowliness  hath  won.' 

The  lesson  artistically  conveyed  in  *  The  Cranes  of  Ibycns '  has 
a  true  and  profound  meaning.  The  Nemesis  described  as  haunt- 
ing the  transgressor  is  inseparably  united  with  himself;  a  man's 
moral  destiny  is  an  evolution  of  his  own  character ;  the  Euminides 
are  mere  shadows  for  all  save  guilty  consciences.    This  truth  waa 


820  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [0«. 

never  more  finely  uttered  in  poetry  than  by  Scluller.  He  found 
in  Plutarch  a  story  which  might  he  treated  so  as  to  make  it  serve 
a  higher  purpose  than  that  for  which  it  was  at  first  narrated. 

Plutarch,  after  telling  the  story  of  Ibycus,  appends  to  it  a  shal* 
low  moral,  to  the  eft'ect,  that  the.  murderers  of  the  poet  were 
betrayed^  not  by  the  cranes,  but  by  their  own  garrulity.  IbycuSi 
a  Greek  Ijiic  poet  (of  whose  writings  some  fragments  have  been 
preserved),  was  travelling,  we  are  -told,  from  his  native  place, 
Rbegium,  to  Corinth,  there  to  take  part  in  the  Isthmian 
FestivaL  He  was  near  the  end  of  his  journey,  and  waa  passhig 
through  the  dark  pine-wood  consecrated  to  Neptune,  when  he 
was  attacked  by  robbers,  who  murdered  him  for  the  sake  of  such 
small  booty  as  a  poet  could  carry  with  him.  Ibycus,  left  alone 
and  dying,  looks  up  and  sees,  in  the  sky,  a  long  flight  of  cnmasi 
migrating  to  the  south : — 

'  Ye  Cnnea !  bear  witness  how  I  fid]/ 

Said  Ibj^cus,  with  failing  breath  i 
*  If  human  tongues  are  silent  all, 

Fly  I — tell  the  story  of  my  death.' 

The  poet*8  corpse  is  found  in  the  wood,  and  the  news  of  hia 
melancholy*  fate  is  soon  spread  aunong  the  people  aaaembled  at  the 
games.  Meanwhile,  a  tragedy  in  which  the  Furies  i^pear  ia  to 
be  perfoimed  in  the  great  roofless  theatre,  where  all  the  tiers  of 
seats  are  crowded  with  spectators,  including  many  who  knew  and 
loved  the  murdered  poet 

Out  of  the  dim  background  of  the  stage  there  oome  forth — ^like 

remembered  sins  rising  out  of  the  gloom  of  a  bad  conscience'^— 

the  terrible  forms  of  the  Furies,  the  detectors  and  avengexs  of 

crime : — 

Dark  robes  about  their  loins  are  flowing; 
•  And  in  their  fleshless  hands  they  bear 
Their  torches,  dimly,  redly  glowing; 

Their  cheeks  are  bloodless,  and  for  hair- 
Instead  of  such  as,  soft  and  Uthe, 

About  a  human  forehead  hangs — 
See  dusky  snakes  and  vipers  writhe 
And  twist,  and  show  their  deadly  fangs. 

Then,  with  their  rhythm  of  long  and  alow  paces^  the  Furies 
going  round  about  on  the  stage,  sing,  with  hoarse  voicee^— 

How  blest  the  man  unstained  by  crime, 
Who  keepeth  clean  both  heart  and  band  I 


XXn.]  BALLADS.  •  821 

He  travds,  fnt,  through  every  clime, 
His  steps  we  track  not  o*«r  the  land ; 

But  woe  to  him  who  from  the  light 
Woold  hide  a  mnrder  in  his  breast  I 

The  Furies — daughters  of  the  night- 
Will  follow  him  and  give  no  rest ; 

Will  follow  I    A  j-^n  pinions  fleet, 

We  follow }  we  are  eTerywhers  $ 
The  criminal,  in  swift  retreat, 

Can  only  run  into  a  snare ; 
And  when  he  falls,  'tis  vain  for  grace 

To  pray  to  us — forgiving  never—* 
Down  to  the  Shades,  oar  dwelling-place, 

We  drag  the  wretch-oour  own  for  ever  I 

The  sflence  that  follows  this  tenible  denundation  is  suddenly 
broken  by  a  strange  outcry  fr6m  the  highest  tier  of  the  roofless 
theatre.  A  long  flight  of  cranes  is  passing  over  and  blackening 
the  sky.  The  Furies  have  vanished  into  the  dark  background  of 
the  stagey  but  the  natural  accident  of  the  cranes  appearing  at 
this  moment  is  made  effectual  for  the  detection  of  the  two 
cximinals.  Nature  and  art  conspire  together  to  alarm  a  guilly 
conscience :  — 

'There  1 ' — ^sounding  from  the  loftiest  tier— 

A  voice  is  heard : — *•  Tlm<5thSas,  see  I 
The  cranes  of  Ibj^cns  are  here  I ' 

'Why  should  a  flight  of  cranes  be  associated  with  the  name  of 
Ibycus  P '  say  the  people,  and  their  suspicions  soon  become  conyio- 

tions:— 

*  Of  Ibycus !  * — ^in  accents  low 

The  people  talk,  and  through  the  crowd. 
Like  spreading  waves,  the  murmurs  go^ 
Until  they  grow  to  voices  loud*— 

*  Of  Ibycus,  Vhom  we  deplore. 

Who  fell  beneath  a  guilty  hand. 
What  have  the  cranes  to  tell  ? — Say  more  t 
Speak  out,  that  we  may  understand.' 

* 

As  by  the  lightning*8  flash  revealed. 

The  dime  appears  in  open  day  ; 
"Twas  murder ;  could  not  be  concealed  i 

He  has  confessed ! '  the  people  say  ;»- 
'Seize  there  the  murderer,  self-betrayed. 

And  him  to  whom  the  words  were  said  I— 
The  Furies  have  their  power  displayed. 

And  JnstioQ  will  avenge  tha  daad»* 

J 


3:22  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

Several  other  ballads  written  by  Schiller  during  the  years 
1799-1803  (when  he  was  chiefly  employed  in  dramatic  literature), 
are  so  well  known  that  this  brief  reference  may  suffice. 

Of  the  early  lyrical  poems  included  in  an  '  Anthology  *  (pub- 
lished in  1781),  it  may  be  enough  to  repeat  what  has  been  said 
of  the  early  dramas — they  must  be  viewed  as  the  crude  produc- 
tions of  youth.  The  *  Song  to  Joy '  belongs  to  the  close  of  the  poet's 
youthful  timC;  and  the  poem  '  Kesignation '  has  a  biographical 
interest,  and  speaks  of  hopes  unwillingly  resigned.  Another  poem, 
DerKampf  ('  The  Combat '),  contains  only  a  part  of  an  earlier  and 
far  wilder  expression  of  passion.  Both  may  be  referred  to  as 
confessions  that  the  poet,  in  his  youthful  time,  longed  for  the 
so-called  'physical  freedom  *  which  was,  often  enough,  asserted  in 
life  as  well  as  in  poetry.  But  it  must  be  added,  that  the  subor- 
dination of  passion  to  duty  and  the  reconciliation  of  duty  with 
happiness  of  which  he  speaks  so  well  in  his  *  Letters  on  Esthetic 
Education '  were  fully  realised  in  his  own  life  after  1790,  when  . 
he  married  Charlotte  von  Lengefeld.  Another  poem  of  biogra- 
phical interest.  Das  Gluck  ('  Good.  Fortune  *),  may  be  named,  be- 
cause it  has  been  falsely  imagined  that  it  expresses  some  envy  of 
Goethe's  success  in  life.  This  supposition  has  in  its  favour  only  a 
few  words  in  one  of  Schiller's  letters  to  Korner,  and  the  poem  is 
clear  enough  in  itself,  without  any  reference  to  that  letter. 

As  one  of  the  best  examples  of  Schiller's  ideal  lyric  poetry,  the 
poem  originally  entitled  *  The  Realm  of  Shadows,'  and,  afterwards, 
'  The  Ideal. and  Life,'  deserves  more  attention  than  can  be  given 
here.  It  describes  life  as  a  battle-field  where  duty  and  inclina- 
tion struggle,  and  where  aesthetic  culture  •  may  afford  an  impor- 
tant aid  in  effecting  a  reconciliation  of  the  contending  powers. 
The  true  idea  of  freedom  is  expressed  in  this  fine  poem,  and  is 
again  found  in  '  The  Power  of  Song,*  which  blends  lyrical  enthu- 
siasm with  true  philosophy. 

Schiller  had  studied  history,  and  was  no  cold  spectator  of  the 
events  taking  place  in  his  own  times.  He  had  a  strong  tendency 
to  generalise,  or  to  reduce  to  forms  of  pure  thought,  the  results 
of  his  observations,  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  could  not  rest  con- 
tented with  this  process,  but  wished  to  clothe  his  thoughts  in 
poetic  imagery.  These  characteristics  are  all  united  in  a  series  of 
poems  still  to  be  noticed.  The  *  Song  of  the  Bell,'  completed  in 
1799,  belongs  to  this  seiies,  which  includes  also  '  The  Walk,'  and 


XXTT.]  'THE  WALK.'  823 

'  The  Eleusinian  Festival.'  In  these  poems  the  writer  gives,  in  an 
imaginative  form,  his  thoughts  on  the  history  of  culture.  In  the 
first  (which  is  well  known  everywhere),  the  various  uses  of  the 
Bell  call  up,  in  the  poet*B  mind,  a  succession  of  scenes  in  human 
life,  and  the  progress  of  the  individual  is  traced  from  the  cradle 
to  the  grave.  Then  thoughts  of  the  political  movement  of  his 
own  times  lead  the  poet  into  a  digression  on  the  French  Revolution^ 
and  the  Song  closes  with  a  prayer  for  the  advent  of  peace. 

'The  Walk '  is  a  fine  poem  of  its  class,  in  which  thoughts  on 
history  and  some  reflective  passages  are  well  combined  with  a 
series  of  varied  landscapes  through  which  the  poet  wanders.  Cul- 
tivated fields  and  gardens  are  left  behind  him,  as  he  enters  into  a 
pastoral  seclusion  where  dreams  of  Arcadia  and  of  the  Golden 
Age  are  suggested ;  but  a  glimpse  of  some  hamlets  and  scattered 
dwellings  of  men  turns  his  thoughts  to  the  growth  of  cities  and 
to  the  history  of  civilisation.  He  describes  its  advantages  and 
its  splendours ;  but  his  contentment  is  suddenly  interrupted  by*a 
remembrance  of  the  recent  reign  of  terror.  Meanwhile,  lost  in 
grave  meditation,  he  has  left  behind  him  the  valleys,  with  all 
their  sights  and  sounds  of  rural  life,  and  has  ascended  a  mountain, 
where  he  is  glad  to  find  himself  alone  and  yet,  as  he  says,  not 
solitary.    The  poem  is  thus  concluded : — 

But  where  am  1  ?    My  path  is  lost.    I  find 

Myself  alone  on  wild  and  rocky  ground : 
Gardens  and  hedge-rows  all  are  left  behind ; 

No  trace  of  human  life  or  toil  is  found ; 
But  rude,  uncultured  hills  about  me  stand. 
And  piles  of  rock  await  the  builder's  hand. 
The  torrent  from  the  mountiun's  melted  snow 

Foams  over  rocks  and  roots  of  trees  laid  bare^ 
And  pours  its  waters  in  the  dell  below  ; 

While  o*er  the  desolate  place,  in  the  lone  air, 
The  eagle  hangs,  with  outspread  wings,  on  high. 
And  knits  the  savage  landscape  to  the  sky. . 

No  winds  can  hither  waft  the  faintest  sound 

Of  human  joys  or  cares.    Alone  I  seem, 
And  yet  am  not  alone.    Thy  arms  surround 

Thy  child,  maternal  Nature !    Twas  a  dream 
Of  human  woes  that  led  me  far  astray ; 
But  now  thy  presence  drives  my  fears  away ; 
From  thee  I  drink  once  more  a  purer  life ;. 

The  hopes  of  youth  revive  within  my  breast. 

y2 


324  OUTLINES  OF  OEBMAN  LITEEATUEE.  [Ck. 

The  minds  of  men,  in  a  perp^nal  strife^ 
KevoIviB  from  age  to  age,  and  find  no  rest ; 

While  nature,  in  unfading  youth  and  beauty. 

Obeys  one  everlasting  law  of  duty ; 

Upon  her  constant  bosom,  ever  green, 
Beneath  her  sky  of  never-fading  blue, 

lived  all  the  generations  who  have  been, 
And  still  her  children  find  her  firesh  and  new. 

And  the  aame  tun  that,  o'er  some  Qredan  hill. 

Homer  beheld,  is  fhining  on  us  still  1 


While  IfBtnd  and  Koisebue  were  gaining  popidarity  by  writing 
oommon-plaoe  dramas,  SchUler  remained  fiutliful,  as  we  have  said, 
to  his  noble  idea  of  making  the  theatre  a  school  for  the  people. 
The  last  six  years  of  his  life  were  mostly  deyoted  to  the  fulfilment 
of  this  design.  In  his  drama  of  JFaSenstmn  (completed  in  1799), 
the  poet  chose  a  very  difficult  subject ;  but  it  is  national,  and  is 
connected  with  historical  events  of  great  interest.  When,  in  the 
-prologue,  the  hero  is  desoribed  as  '  a  Creator  of  Armies '  and  '  a 
Scourge  of  the  Nations,'  as  '  unsatisfied,  though  he  had  attained 
the  highest  pinnacle  of  honour/  and  as  '  ftdling,  at  last,  a  yictim 
to  his  own  unbounded  ambition,'  the  words  seem  more  fairly 
applicable  to  Napoleon  I.  than  to  Wallenstein,  who  could  hardly 
be  more  selfish  than  his  secret  and  his  open  foes,  and  who, 
after  all  his  ambition,  was  raised  only  to  the  rank  of  a  Duke  of 
Friedland.  The  drama  is  arranged  as  a  Trilogy ;  but  the  Second 
Part  is  not  independent.  The  First  Part  gives  a  succession  of 
scenes  among  the  rude  soldiery — Croats,  Walloons,  and  others — ^in 
Wallenstein's  camp.  In  one  scene  their  reyels  are  suddenly  in- 
terrupted by  the  arrival  of  a  Capuchin  Friar,  who  takes  his  stand 
among  them  and  preaches  boldly  against  their  vices.  His  style — 
consisting  of  a  crude  mixture  of  German  with  Latin,  and  gamished 
with  puns — might  seem  too  absurd  to  be  used  even  in  a  caricature ; 
but  it  18,  in  fistct,  a  faithful  representation  of  such  sermons  as  were 
preached  by  the  Augustine  friar,  IJlrich  Megerle,  of  whom  a 
brief  notice  has  been  given  in  our  twelfth  chapter.  This  is  only 
one  of  m^ny  examples  of  Schiller^s  carefbl  historical  study  of  his 
subject  There  are  many  passages  in  Megerle's  sermons  more 
eccentric  than  the .  following  in  the  Friar's  homily^  as  given  by 
the  poet  :^ 

Neminem  coneuiiatisi 
(Violent  hands  on  no  man  lay ;) 


XXn.]  'WAUiBNSTEIN/  825 

iVagve  etUummam  fadatis  t 
(Kerer  a  word  of  slander  say  ;) 
Conienti  estote  (be  content) 
SHpendiia  vettris  (with  your  pay) 
And  of  your  eyil  ways  repent . 

When  the  preacher  proceeds  to  rail  Tiolently  against  their 
Oommander-in-Chie^.and  to  call  him  'a  heretic 'and  'a  Nebu- 
chadnezzar/ the  aermon  is  promptly  brought  to  an  end  amid  the 
loud  outcries  and  threats  of  his  soldiers,  and  the  screaming  friar 
is  driven  from  the  field. 

The  impression  left  by  these  scenes  in  the  Camp  accords  as 
well  with  facts  as  with  Wallenstein's  own  estimate  of  his  army^ 
and  aiSects  our  estimate  of  his  subsequent  conduct  In  the  Third 
Part  of  the  drama,  he  gives  his  own  account  of  the  soldiery  em- 
ployed as  'defenders  of  the  faith.'  Their  Commander  is  here 
talking  with  a  Swedish  Protestant  general : — 

Toar  Lutherans  are  fighting  for  their  Bible ; 
They  are  hi  earnest  to  defend  Jtheir  faith.  .  .  . 
There's  nothing  of  the  kind  among  these  ^len.  •  •  • 
Tis  tme,  the  Austrian  has  a  fatherland. 
He  lovM  it  well,  and  not  without  a  cause ; 
'But  this  so-called  *  Imperial  Army '  here 
Has  neither  faith,  nor  church,  uor  any  home. 
It  is  but  refuse,  sent  from  foreign  lands 
Into  Bohemia. 

The  Second  Part — Die  Piccolomini — serves  as  an  exposition  to 
the  Third—'  The  Death  of  Wallenstein.'  The  character  of  the 
hero,  as  desoribed  by  historians,  is  complex  and  mysterious.  He 
was  the  leader  of  vast  armies,  over  whom  he  exercised  a  mar- 
vellous personal  control.  He  had  resolved  to  revolt  against  the 
Emperor,  and  had  grounds  for  justifying  such  a  resolution ;  but 
his  indecision  or  procrastination  in  carrying  his  desigxis  into  exe- 
cution was  fataL  Ascribing  both  his  fortunes  and  his  misfortunes  to 
the  influence  of  the  planets,  he  was  guided  partly  by  the  advice  of  an 
Italian  astrologer.  Thus  too  many  motives  are  brought  into  action 
in  the  unfolding  of  the  plot  The  hero  is  represented  as  believing' 
that  the  war-policy  of  the  bigot  Emperor — Ferdinand  II. — would 
be  ruinous  to  Geimany,  and  if  he  held  such  a  belief,  he  had  some 
grounds  for  it.  While  these  traits  win  sympathy  for  Wallenstein, 
there  is  little  to  be  said  in  favour  of  his  enemies,  who  secretlv 
used  against  him  the  power  he  had  courerred  upon  them.    What 


326  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.  [Ck 

cares  the  reader  for  Ferdinand  the  Second ;  for  Octavio  Piccolo- 
mini  ;  or  for  the  hirelings  Battler  and  Gordon,  who  assassinated 
their  General  ?  The  weakness  of  the  drama  is  that  it  ends  with 
a  negation ;  there  is  nothing  that  can  be  otherwise  described  in 
the  triumph  of  Wallenstein^s  enemies. 

The  theory  may  be  entertained  that  he  was  a  mercenary  traitor; 
but  this  is  not  stated  in  the  tragedy.  His  character  is  left  as 
mysterious  bere  as  in  history.  His  trust  in  astrology  and  in  his 
own  power;  his  indecision,  and  his  revolt ; — all  lead  to  bis  down- 
fall. For  two  years  he  hesitates  to  act  so  as  to  punish  imperial 
ingratitude ;  then,  when  the  deed  is  done,  when  he  has  formed  an 
alliance  with  the  Swedes,  he  gives  his  enemies  time  to  conspire 
against  him.  For  this  neglect  of  precaution  against  foes  there  is, 
however,  a  noble  excuse — he  believed  them  to  be  friends,  and  it 
was  not  his  nature  to  mistrust  them.  He  gives  to  his  opponent^ 
Piccolomini  the  command  of  the  Spanish  forces,  and  trusts  in  the 
honour  and  friendship  of  the  mercenary  Buttler. 

Wallenstein  is  thus  surrounded  by  danger,  while  dwelling  in  a 
repose  founded  not  only  upon  self-confidence  and  astrological  pre- 
dictions, but  also  on  a  belief  in  the  sincerity  of  friends,  when — ^like 
crash  after  crash  of  a  thunderstorm  following  a  dead  calm — tidings 
of  the  failure  of  his  plans  and  the  defection  of  his  friends  are 
brought  to  him.  But  nought  can  break  down  his  proud  spirit. 
He  is  only  roused  to  self-confidence  when  the  worst  news  reaches 
him  ;  that  his  '  friend  '-^Octavio — has,  with  all  the  Spanish 
forces  under  his  command,  decided  to  fight  for  the  Emperor.  All 
is  lost  for  Wallenstein,  who  thus  boldly  encounters  the  ruin  of  his 

plana: — 

I  am  as  desolate  as  I  was  left 
After  that  diet  held  at  Regensboig, 
When  I  possessed  mj^self  and  nothing  more ; 
"Butf  since  then,  I  have  shown  yon  what  a  man 
May  do,  when  left  alone. — Strike  off  the  twigs  1 
Tet  here  stand  I — the  trunk — and  in  the  pitibi 
There*s  still  creative  energy,  to  make 
A  new  world  all  aronnd  me  I — ^Tou  have  known 
How  I  was,  once,  an  array  in  myself.  .  .  . 
I  am  the  same  man  still,  and  strong  as  ever. 
It  is  the  spirit  that  builds  up  the  body  ; 
Friedland  will  fill  his  camp  with  followers. 
Lead  on  your  thousands  ! — men  once  led  by  me 
To  victories,  but  arrayed  against  me  now — 
TbeyVe  but  the  limbs,  and  soon  shall  know  their  fkte^ 
When  they  rebel  against  the  Ucad ! 


XXII.]  •  wallenstjein;  S27 

The  hero,  while  speaking  thus  undauntedly,  knows  enough  to 
crush  the  bravest  spirit ;  yet  he  knows  not  all.  He  suspects  not 
that  one  of  his  most  trusted  followers— Buttler — ^while  seeming 
faithful  to  his  master  in  adversity,  is  in  fact  the  confidential  agent 
of  the  £mperor.  The  enemies  of  Wallenstein  have  surrounded  him 
on  all  sides ;  his' plan  for  effecting  a  junction  with  the  Swedes  is 
too  late  in  its  execution,  and  when  he  advances  to  Eger,  to  fulfil 
his  design,  he  only  marches  into  a  prison  prepared  for  him. 

At  the  midnight  hour,  when  without  suspicion  of  treachery  he 
has  retired  to  rest,  he  is  slain  by  assassins  led  on  by  Buttler,  and 
paid  by  the  Emperor.  If  the  act  was  just,  it  was  lamentable  that 
it  should  assume  such  a  cowardly  character. 

The  circumstances  attending  WallenAein's  death  would— even 
if  he  were  clearly  shown  to  have  been  a  selfish  traitor — make  im- 
possible any  sympathy  with  his  enemies.  Whatever  his  trans- 
gression  may  have  been,  he  is  represented,  in  this  drama,  as  s 
great  man,  and  such  a  man  ought  not  to  fall  before  a  mean  faction, 
If  it  be  said  that  he  falls  because  he  has  too  blindly  confided  in 
his  own  power  -y  it  may  be  true,  but  it  is  not  stated  in  the  drama. 
Nor  is  the  indecision  that,  at  times,  was  so  remarkable,  described 
here  clearly  as  the  cause  of  his  ruin.  If  he  falls  simply  as  a 
traitor  who  meets  such  punishment  as  he  deserves,  the  conclusion 
is  rational ;  but  'it  is  also  common-place,  and  it  does  not  agree 
with  the  exposition  of  the  drama. 

We  are  left,  then,  without  a  satisfactory  reply  to  the  query. 
Who  is  the  conqueror  at  the  close  of  this  tragedy  ? — '  It  is,'  Eays 
Hegel,  *  the  fall  of  a  great  man  under  a  destiny  both  deaf  and 
dumb.  .  .  .  Wallenstein  is  represented  as  a  man  who,  by  his  in- 
dividual energy,  holds  command  over  a  vast  .army ;  for  his  inde- 
finite greatness  of  character  even  such  aims  as  the  restoration  of 
peace  to  Germany,  the  winning  of  a  sovereignty  for  himself,  and 
great  rewards  for  his  followers ;— all  seem  insufficient  objects  of 
ambition.  Aspiring  beyond  earthly  boundaries,  he  seeks  guidance 
from  Heaven,  and  would  read  his  destiny  in  the  stars.  This 
vaguely  ambitious  character  finds  himself  surrounded  by  smaller 
men  of  definite  aims ;  he  becomes  involved  in  their  strategies,  and 
he  falls.'  ....  ^  The  dose  of  the  tragedy  is  unsatisfactory,'  says 
Hegel ; — *  life  against  life ! — but  here  we  have  death  against  life, 
and — incredible  I  detestable  !— death  has  the  victory  over  life.' 

The  diction  of  the  drama  is  chaste,  appropriate,  and  dignified. 


32S  OUTLINES  OF  GBRMAI7  LIT£BATUEE.  [Ch; 

The  long  episode  oontaining  the  love-story  of  Max  and  Theda 
has  been  highly  admired  by  many  young  readers,  and  Las  beauty 
and  purity  in  itself;  but  it  must  be  condenmed  as  having — with 
the  exception  of  one  passage — but  little  connection  with  the  evo- 
lution of  the  chief  dramatic  interest. 

After  completing  '  Wallenstein/  the  poet  selected  as  tlie  subject 
of  his  next  drama  another  difficult  historical  character — '  Maria 
Stuart.'  Her  imputed  guilt  is  implied :  but  is  cast  intoHhe  shade 
by  sympathy  with  her  soiiows ;  while  the  unhappiness  of  her 
later  years  is  represented  as  a  penance  patiently  endured. 

The  motive  of  Schiller's  next  play  deserved  success.  He  en- 
deavoured to  defend  the  character  of  '  the  Maid  of  Orleans ' 
against  the  satire  of  Voltaire  in  La  PuceUe»  The  poet  could 
believe  what  the  enlightened  philosopher  could  not  imagine ;  that 
an  ardent  hatred  of  oppression  may,  without  fraud,  assume  the 
character  of  inspiration.  Historical  probability  and  a  generous 
inteipretation  of  facts  are  both  on  the  side  of  Schiller;  but  it  must 
be  regretted  that,  after  he  had  clearly  distinguished  the  true 
heroine  from  the  mean  caricature  in  La  Ihwelie,  he  partly  con- 
tradicted his  own  noble  design  by  the  arbitrary  invention  of  an 
attachment  existing  between  the  heroic  maiden  and  the  English- 
man, Lionel — the  enemy  of  France  I  Why  should  such  a  weak- 
ness have  been  thought  possible  ?  The  poet  Platen  might  well 
protest  against  this  sentimental  episode. 

In  the  ^  Bride  of  Messina '  we  find  such  passages  of  splendid 
diction  as  were  never  surpassed  by  Schiller ;  but  his  endeavour  to 
introduce  in  this  drama  the  form  of  the  antique  Greek  Chorus  is  a 
failure.  The  indistinct  notion  of  fate  expressed  in  some  parts  of 
the  drama  suggested  the  deplorable  *  fate-tragedies '  written  by 
Werner,  Miillner,  and  Grillparzer ;  but  Schiller  must  not  be  held 
accountable  for  their  absurdities. 

Schiller's  first  play  was  a  wild  rhapsody  against  law  and  order ; 
his  last  play — *  Wilhelm  Tell ' — was  a  true  prophecy  of  freedom. 
While  writing  of '  Gessler '  the  poet  was  thinking  of  Napoleon  I. 
'I  would  like  him  if  I  could,'  said  Schiller,  'but  I  cannot;  his 
character  is  the  extreme  opposite  of  my  own.'  True ;  for  if  the 
poet  had  one  fixed  idea  it  was  that  of  national  freedom. 

In  *  Wilhelm  Tell '  nothing  is  sidd  in  favour  of  that  negative 
and  destructive  liberty  of  which  Franz  Moor  declaimed  so  wildly 
in  '  The  Kobben.'    It  is  of  freedom  united  with  order,  and  do- 


XXn.]  'WILHELM  TELL.*  829 

fended  by  yenerable  traditions,  that  the  poet  writes  in  his  last 
completed  play.  For  this  freedom  Schiller  spoke  out  boldly  in 
1804,  while  his  native  land  was  in  a  disgraceful  state  of  bondage. 
It  was  of  Germany,  divided  against  itself  and  trodden  down,  that 
he  was  thinking,  more  than  of  Switzerland,  when  he  wrote  the 
last  words  of  the  Swiss  patriarch — Attinghausen :— 

Therefore,  hold  fast  together  I — firm  for  ever- 
Let  no  free  place  be  foreign  to  aoother ; 
Set  warders,  to  look  forth  from  all  your  hills, 
To  call  your  Bund  together,  and,  in  the  figh^ 
Let  all  be  one— one— one — 

Schiller  once  thought  of  writing  something  in  the  shape  of  an 
apology  for  the  literary  sin  of  his  youth.  He  was  then  in  love 
with  a  shadow.  Li  his  later  years  he  fixed  his  affections  on  true 
liberty — ^the  companion  of  national  honour  and  of  intellectual  and 
moral  culture — and  to  this  pure  love  he  remained  faithfuL  Thus 
he  especially  won  the  hearts  of  the  German  people. 

It  is  but  too  probable  that  neither  Tell,  the  hero  of  the  drama, 
nor  his  antagonist — the  despot  Gessler— ever  existed,  except  in 
fiction.  The  story  of  Tell,  as  given  by  the  chronicler  Etterlin, 
is  not  supported  by  earlier  writers,  whose  silence  would  have  been 
hardly  less  than  miraculous  if  such  a  hero  had  livedo  or  had  been 
talked  of  before  their  times. 

These  facts,  however  depressing  to  both  students  of  history  and 
lovers  of  romance,  do  not  decrease  the  value  of  Schiller's  drama. 
Its  subject  is  the  assertion  of  their  national  independence  by  the 
Swiss  people^  who,  in  fact,  take  the  place  of  the  hero  in  the 
drama. 

An  earnest  wish  to  justify  the  assassination  of  Gessler-*in  the 
fourth  act — seems  to  have  led  the  poet  to  add  a  fifth  act^  which 
may  be  described  as  an  appendix.  The  same  motive  may  have 
induced  him  to  dwell  so  long  on  the  principal  scene  in  the  third 
act,  where  Tell  shoots  at  the  apple  placed  on  the  head  of  his  son 
Walther.    We  subjoin  a  quotation  from  this  part  of  the  play : — 

[Waltheb  Tell,  the  ton,  wtands  undkr  a  linden-4ree;  the  apple  i$ 

placed  upon  his  heacL^ 

Tdl  \^benda  the  cross-bow  and  places  a  bolt  in  the  groovej* 

Make  clear  the  way  there  I 
Stanffacher,  Tell  I  you  will  never  venture  it— O  never  I 
See ! — your  knees  tiemble,  and  your  hand  is  shaking. 


330  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  MTERATUEK  [Oh. 

Tell  llowering  the  cross-bow'].    All  swims  before  my  sight— 
•  ••••• 

:       Landvogt  I  O  spare  me  this  I — Here  is  my  heart — 

•  [£r«  bcares  his  br&ut. 
Call  here  your  horsemen ;  let  them  tread  me  down— - 

Gessler.  Your  life  is  safe,  when  I  have  seen  this  shot — 
What ! — Men  say  you  fear  nothing,  Tell ;  your  hand 
Can  hold  the  rudder  firm  against  the  storm, 
As  well  as  bend  the  bow.    No  tempests  daunt  yon 
When  you  would  aid  the  Switzers.    Help  them  now ! 
Ay,  in  one  moment  save  yourself  and  all  I 

[Tell,  in  em  agony  of  doubt,  and  with  hands  quivering,  looks  first  at  tika 
Landyoot,  then  to  heaven ;  then  suddenly  takes  from  the  quioer  another 
bolt.    The  Landyoot  watches  Tell's  movemAUs,] 

J^alther  TdL  Shoot,  father !  I  am  not  afraid — 

TeU,  I  must  I 

[  J7e  collects  himself  and  takes  aim, 

JRudenz  \_siepping  forwards'], 
LandYOgt,  no  more  of  this  I — You  cannot  mean  it ; 
•  'Twas  but  a  trial  of  the  man's  submission. 
And  now  your  end  is  gained  ;  your  purpose,  urged 
Too  far,  must  contradict  itself;  the  bow 
Too  violently  strained  asunder  snaps — 

Gessler,  Pray,  save  your  words  till  they  are  wanted,  sir*— 

Rudem.  But  I  tpill  speak,  sir !  and  without  a  fear— 
The  Emperor's  honour  and  the  government 
That  you  would  make  detestable,  for  me 
Are  sacred  still,  and,  fearless,  I  declare 
This  is  not  Albreoht's  will ! — his  people  here 
Shall  not  be  made  your  victims ! — I  deny 
Tour  wvrant  for  an  act  like  this — 

Gessler,  How  dare  you ! — 

Mudenz,  The  Emperor  is  my  lord,  and  yoa  are  noc— 
I'm  fiee-bom,  like  yourself,  and  I  will  match 
Myself  against  you  in  all  warlike  virtue ; 
Were  you  not  here  to  represent  the  king 
(Whose  name  I  reverence,  even  when  'tis  abused,) 
rd  throw  my  glove  down  for  yon ;  you  should  give 
Account  to  me  for  words  that  you  have  spoken— 
Ha !  you  may  call  your  followers.    I  am  not 
DefiBnceless  like  these  people ;  I've  a  sword — 
Let  any  man  come  near  me ! — 

Stauffacher  [shouts'].  The  apple  has  fallen !— See  !— 

Rosselmann,  The  boy's  alive ! 

•  ••*•• 

Wahher  Tell  [leaping  towards  his  father  and  bringing  tfta  tqipW], 
See,  father,  here's  the  apple  I — I  was  sure 
Ton  would  not  shoot  at  Walther — 


XXIL]  'WILHELM  TELL/  831 

[Tell  ttand»,for  9om€  moments^  bent  forwards^  <ts  if  ittill  foilowing  the  hoWa 
JH^ ;  then  steps  on  quickly  to  meet  the  boy^  lifts  cmd  embraces  him ;  then  sinks 
helplessly  on  the  ynund.    The  bystanders  look  on  him  with  ^frnpathy."] 

Leuthold.  There  was  a  shot  I—Switzers  will  talk  of  that 
To  the  latest  times — 

Budolph,  Ay  I  while  these  mountains  stand 

On  their  foundations  men  shall  talk  of  that ! 

[/Te  gives  the  apple  to  Gessler. 

Gessler.  By  Heaven  I  the  apple's  split !— A  master's  shot 
Was  that  I  .  .  . 

fia,  Tell  !— 

TeQ  {steps  towards  Gessler].  Vogt,  what  command  you  now? 

Gessler.  You  had  another  bolt  there — ^Yes ;  I  saw  it^ 
.  What  was  your  meaning  ? 

Tell  [^embarrassed'].  Sir,  'tis  our  custom. 

Gessler,  No,  Tell  I— that  reply 

Will  not  suffice — there  was  a  meaning  in  it; 
Speak  out  I  your  life  is  safe ;  I  pledge  my  word>« 
What  was  that  second  bolt  to  do  ? — 

TeU.  My  lord, 

My  life  is  safe,  you  say — then  hear  the  truth  : — 
If  I  had  chanced  to  hit  the  boy,  this  bolt — 
[He  draws  forth  the  bolt  and  looks  fercely  at  the  Landvoot.] 
Should  have  pierced  through  your  heart  I — ay  ;  for  Fm  sure 
I  should  not  then  have  missed  my  mark  1 — 

Gessler,  .  Enough! 

Your  life  is  siflfe ;  I  gave  my  word  for  that — 
And,  now  I  know  your  temper,  111  be  safe 
Prom  such  a  marksman !  you  shall  spend  your  life 
Down  in  a  prison,  where  neither  sun  nor  moon 
Shall  ever  shine  upon  you  more  I — Away ! 
Gome  hither,  men !  and  bind  him  fast  1 

[GKaBLBB's^^i0er«  bind  Tell.] 

How  the  cords  that  bound  the  Swiss  hero  were  loosened  that, 
by  his  power  in  rowing,  he  might  save  his  own  warders  from  a 
storm  on  the  lake — all  the  world  knows.  The  above  scene  was 
necessary  to  introduce  another  in  which  the  death  of  Gessler 
takes  place.  There  is,  even  in  the  removal  from  the  earth  of 
such  a  monster  as  the  Landvogt,  something  with  which  we 
cannot  sympathise ;  for  Tell  shoots  from  an  ambush,  while  the 
tyrant  is  detained  in  a  narrow  pass.  In  the  preceding  scenes  of 
tl^e  drama  all  that  could  be  done  by  the  poet  has  been  well  done 
to  reconcile  us — ^if  possible — ^to  the  conclusion  of  the  third  scene 
in  the  fourth  act,  of  which  we  translate  a  part : — 


332  OUTLINES  OF  GEKMAN  UTERATUBE.  [Oa. 

[ScBSE  iT'The  narrow  paaa  ofKuunachL    On  the  rock  TsLL  appeartf 

armed  with  a  croM9-^fow.'] 

Along  this  close  defile  the  Vogt  muBt  ride : 
There  ia  no  other  way  to  KttMnacht.    Hera 
I  end  my  work,  for  which  the  plape  seems  made. 
This  alder-bosh  will  screen  me  from  his  view, 
And  hence  my  bolt  can  be  more  surely  pointed. 
The  rocky  cleft  will  hinder  all  parsuers. 
Now,  Gessler,  balance  your  accounts  with  Heaven- 
Tour  latest  hour  has  sounded.    Tou  must  go  1 

I  once  lived  harmlessly,  and  only  pointed 
My  shafts  against  the  creatures  of  the  forest— 
I  thought  not  then  of  hurting  human  life : 
But  you  have  driven  from  me  all  thoughts  of  peace  { 
Ay,  you  have  changed  the  current  in  my  veins 
To  poison.    When  you  forced  the  father*s  hand 
To  point  the  shaft  so  near  his  darling  boy, 
You  made  me  think  of  aiming  at  your  breast. 

Now,  to  defend  my  children  and  my  wife 
III  spend  this  shaft.    When  last  I  drew  the  stringp 
Twas  with  a  faltering  hand,  to  strike  the  apple 
From  my  boy's  head — ^then,  while  I  prayed  in  Tain 
That  I,  a  father,  might  be  spared  that  trial, 
I  made  a  vow  (within  my  secret  bi^east 
Breathed  deeply — God  was  witness  of  that  yow) 
That  the  next  target  for  my  arrow,  Gessler,  » 

Should  be  thy  heart !    And  now  the  vow  I  made 
In  that  dark  moment  of  infernal  pain 
Shall  be  fulfilled :  it  was  a  sacred  oath. 


{_A  Marriage  Proeeuion,  accompanied  wi^  mnaic,  winde  throngh  fft«  defile, 
.  .  .  Armoart,  a  poor  woman,  comee  with  her  children,  and  oceupiee  the 
entrance  of  the  past,  .  .  .] 

Frieeehardt.  Make  dear  the  path !   Away  I   The  Landvogt  comes  I 

[Tbll  retiree. 

Armgart,  The  Landvogt  comes  I 
[GsaBLKB,  attended  by  Rudouph,  entera  on  horeAack,'] 

Geeeier  [to  Rudolph^, 
Say  what  yon  will,  I  am  the  Empeior*s  servant, 
And  all  my  care  is  to  obey  his  wishes. 
He  did  not  send  me  to  this  stubborn  land 
To  soothe  these  people.    No  I  the  question  now 
Is  this — who  shall  be  ruler  ;  prince  or  peasant  ? 

Armgart,  Now  is  the  moment  I    Now  I  press  my  claim  t 

[_She  approadue  Oesblbb. 

Geeeier,  I  did  not  bid  the  people  to  bow  down 
Before  the  Hat,  that  I  might  laugh  at  them— 
No  ;  bat  to  bend  the  sinew  in  their  neck, 
WhicJ^  would  not  boWbcfore  their  rightful  lord. 


.]  •WlLHEUm  TELL/  883 

I  placed  the  Hat  there,  in  the  road  by  Altdoif, 
To  keep  in  their  nnwilling  minds  the  tmth 
That  I  am  master,  and  most  be  obeved. 

Rudolph,  And  yet  the  people  have  some  ancient  right0» 

GesiUr.  We  have  no  time  to  talk  about  them  now : 
There  are  more  serious  interests  at  stake. 
The  Emperor's  house  must  flourish :  what  the  fsther 
B^an  so  well,  the  son  must  now  complete* 
This  people  is  a  stone  upon  our  path— 
And — once  for  a)l->«they  must  submit. 

'  [Armoabt  Anee^f  tii  Me  Kwy  ^ybrs  GssSLBB. 

Armgart.  Mercy,  lord  governor  I  Hear  my  petition  I 

Gessler,  Woman,  how  dare  you  thus  obstruct  the  paaa  ? 

ArmgarL  My  lord  I  my  husband  in  a  dungeon  liee— > 
A]l  bis  poor  orphans  scream  for  bread.    Have  mercy  I 
Have  pity,  governor,  on  our  distrdu  I 

Rudolph.  Wbat  is  your  name  ? — who  is  your  husband,  woman  ? 

Armgart.  He  was  a  peasant  on  the  Rigi  mountain. 
And  mowed,  for  life,  the  soanty  gras*  that  grows 
Over  the  mouths  of  fearful  chasms  and  sides 
Of  roi'Ics,  where  even  wild  cattle  dare  not  climb. 

Rudolph  [to  Genler'].  Good  Heaven  I  a  poor  and  miserabla  lifb ! 
I  pray  you  let  this  wretched  man  be  free : 
Whatever  his  transgression  may  have  been, 
.    His  life  is  a  sufficient  punishment. 

|[7b  ABMaART 
You  shall  be  heard  ;  but  this  is  not  the  place : 
Apply  to  us  when  we  arrive  at  KUssnacht. 

Armgart.  No,  no !  I  will  not  move,  sir,  iVom  this  ^t 
Until  my  prayer  is  granted.    Free  my  husband  t 
Six  moons  have  o*er  his  dungeon  passed  away. 
And  still  he  lies  there,  asking  for  a  trial. 

Gesaler.  Woman,  no  more  of  this.    Make  clear  the  path  1 

Armgart.  Justice  for  me,  my  lord  I    You  are  our  judge  I 
The  servant  of  the  Emperor  and  of  Qod  : 
Perform  your  duty.    If  you  have  a  hope 
That  Heaven  may  listen  to  your  prayers,  hear  mine! 

Geatler.  Away,  I  tell  you !    This  audacious  people ! 

^Armoart  Beixet  the  reins  of  his  hort . 

Armgart,  No,  no,  shr !    I  have  nothing  now  to  lose. 
Yon  go  not  through  this  narrow  pats  until 
My  prayer  is  heard  I    Ay,  you  may  knit  youz  brow,  « 

And  roll  your  eyes  in  anger— I  care  not. 
I  tell  you  that  we  are  so  wretched  now, 
We  care  not  for  your  ftiry  1 

Geatler,  Woman,  move  I 

Or  over  you  I  soon  shall  find  a  way. 

[Armgart  uixet  her  children^  and  throws  heraelfwith  them  <m  the  path 

hrfore  Gessler.  | 

Armgart,  Bide  on,  then  I    Here  I  lie  with  all  my  childzen. 


334  OUTLINES  OF  OERMAN  LITERATURE.  £Ctt; 

Now  trample  on  us  with  yonr  iron  hooft ; 
It  will  not  be  the  worst  deed  you  have  done ! 

Rudolph,  Surely  the  woman's  mad  I 

Armgart.  For  years  you've  trodden' 

Upon  the  Emperor*s  people  in  this  land. 
I'm  but  a  woman  ;  if  I  were  a  man, 
I  would  do  something  better — not  lie  here 
Down  in  the  diut  before  you.    Now  ride  on  I 

[T^e  music  of  the  toedding^rfy  tt  heartL 

Gestler,  Where  are  my  servants  ?    Call  my  followers 
To  drag  this  wretched  creature  from  the  path ; 
Or  I  may  act  too  rashly,  and  repent. 

Rudolph,  Your  followers  are  all  detained,  my  lord ; 
A  marriage>oompany  obstructs  the  way. 

Geasler.  I  see  it — I  have  been  too  mild  a  ruler ; 
The  people  grow  audacious  in  their  talk  I 
They  are  not  tamed  and  fettered  as  they  shall  \jBp 
It  shall  be  otherwise— I  swear!     1*11  break 
Their  obstinate  will  and  bend  their  spirit  down  ; 
A  new  law  shall  be  published  in  the  land ; 
IwiU— 

■  [^A  bolt  strikes  him.    He  places  his  hand  on  his  heart  and  speaks  faintfy,'] 

0  God,  be  merciful  to  me ! 
Rudolph,  My  lord  !    What  is  it  ?    Whence  came  that  ?    O  God  I 
Armgart.  He  falls  I— He  dies ! — The  governor  is  slain  I 
[Rudolph  has  dismounted  and  hastens  to  support  Gessler.3 
Rudolph,  What  sudden  horror  tbb  I — my  lord,  'tis  death — 
Call  for  God's  mercy  I  pray  1  your  time  is  short. 
Gessler,  That  was  Tell's  bolt  I— 

[/Te  sinks  from  the  saddle  into  the  arins  of  Rudolph,  toho  lays  him  down  on 
the  slope  at  the  side  of  the  road.  Tell  appears  on  the  swsunU  of  tKe 
rock."] 

Tell.  You  know  the  marksman  I     Search  not  for  another. 
Free  are  our  huts,  and  innocence  is  safe  ; 
The  tyrant's  hand  shall  vex  the  land  no  more. 

A  brief  criticism  may  be  appent^  to  this  scene.  However 
great  the  atrocity  of  which  Gessler  had  been  guilty,  Tell^  with 
1)18  friends,  should'  have  met  the  despot  face  to  face,  as  Arnold 
von  Winkelried  encountered  the  Austrians  at  Sempach.  The 
scenes  of  which  Tell  is  the  hero  have  been  quoted,  because  their 
interest  is  almost  complete  in  itself;  but  they  are  not  the  best 
parts  of  the  play;  they  are  hardly  worthy  to  be  compared  with 
the  scene  (Act  ii.  scene  2)  in  which  the  gathering  of  the  Swiss 
peaple  at  Riitli  is  represented.  There  Schiller  makes  the  manly 
and  sober  orator,  Stauffacher,  assert  the  rights  of  the  people  on 
grounds  that  are  truly  religious.    He  preaches  no  new  dreams 


XXII.]  -WUHELM  tell;  835 

about  '  the  rights  of  man ; '  but  assertB  the  ancient,  lawful,  and 
constitutional  freedom  of  the  Swiss  people,  in  harmony  with  the 
welfare  of  the  whole  empire  of  which  they  form  a  part.  The 
moral  strength  of  the  drama  has  its  centre  and  heart  in  the  oration 
delivered  by  Staufiadher  at  Riitli.  We  must,  as  an  act  of  justice 
to  the  poet;  give  a  quotation  from  this  speech.  On  reading  it 
once  more,  we  wonder  again  that  Napoleon  I.  allowed  ^  Wilhelm 
Tell '  to  be  performed.  It  was  no  act  of  liberality ;  but  rather  a 
mistake  respecting  the  influence  of  poetry.  What  did  he  care  for 
anything  that  a  poor  obscure  poet  at  Weimar  could  say  about 
liberty  ?  The  mechanical  Emperor  heard  of  the  success  of  the 
play,  and  sneered  at  the  Germans  for  their  admiration  of  a  piece 
founded  on  a  revolt  (so  called)  by  which  their  own  empire  in  old 
times  had  lost  a  province.  He  could  not  imagine  that  there  was 
anything  greater  or  stronger  than  a  vast  empire  held"  together 
(like  the  rudest  and  least  durable  works  in  mechanism)  by. a 
merely  external  power.  The  poet,  with  all  his  idealism,  was,  in 
the  long  run,  a  more  practical  man  than  the  Corsican  who  in- 
vaded Russia  and  then  went  to  Leipzig  and  to  Waterloo. 

In  the  scene  from  which  we  quote  a  few  paragraphs,  the  leaders 
of  the  Swi?s  people  are  assembled,  at  night,  on  a  plot  of  meadow- 
land  at  Hiitli,  surrounded  on  all  sides  but  one  by  rocks  and  trees. 
By  steps  cut  among  the  crevices  of  the  rocks  and  by  ladders  sus- 
pended from  the  cliffs,  the  confederate  leaders  x)f  the  people  are 
hastening  down  to  join  the  national  gathering.  A  lake  shines  in 
the  background. and,  in  the  distance,  white  Alpine  mountains  and 
glaciers  are  glistening  in  the  moonlight.  Stauffacher,  one  of  the 
older  members  of  the  Bund  ('union '),  stands  in  the  centre  of  the 
confederate  patriots,  and  delivers  a  speech,  which  may  be  fiUy 
called  a  German  declaration  of  *  the  rights  of  man.'  It  is  as  sober 
as  it  is  enthusiastic,  and  gives  us  the  poet*s  last  ideas  of  liberty, 
which  are  strongly  contrasted  with  the  crude  notions  found  in  *  The 
Robbers ' : — 

Stauffacher,  We  make  here  no  new  Bund,  lo-night,  my  fricDds  I 
It  is  the  old,  old  Bund  of  our  fkthers*  time 
We  renoyate.->Mark  that,  Confederates ! 
Lakes  may  divide  us ;  mountains  rise  between  ns ; 
Still  we  are  all  one  race— all  of  one  blood — 
We're  all  the  sons  of  one  dear  Fatherland  I 
•  .  •  • 

Auf  der  Matter,  All  of  one  bbod !— Ay  ;  and  we've  all  one  heart  I 


S36  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUBE.      '     [Go. 

[^AU  the  people  ahoui;  meanu^ile  grcupmg  one  anothei^a  Aoiui] 

We  are  one  people  I    We  will  act  as  one. 

Rdudmann,  Our  union  with  the  empire  was  our  choioe  ; 
That's  written  down  hy  Kaiser  Friedrich's  hand. 

Stauffacher.  Ay,  we  are  free  I — As  free  men  we  would  serve ; 
We  would  be  loyal ;  there  must  be  a  judge, 
So  that  when  strife  begins,  it  may  be  ended. 
And,  therefore,  our  forefathers,  for  this  soil. 
Which  was  they  own — ^won  from  a  wilderness — 
Paid  homage  to  the  Emperor,  the  lord 
Of  our  own  German  and  of  foreign  lands ; 
But  it  was  paid  by  men  whose  rights  were  safe 
Within  the  realm ;  they  gave  their  lives  to  guard 
The  realm  that  over  them  had  spread  its  shield. 

Melchihal,  Service  on  other  terms  is  fit  for  slaves. 
^  ••••••• 

Stauffacher.  The  land  Ib  ours ;  it  is  our  own  creatioa  I 
By  our  own  labour,  those  old  gloomy  forests, 
That  once  were  lairs  for  wolves  and  bears,  were  felled, 
To  make  space  for  our  homesteads,  and  the  brood 
Of  the  old  dragons  that  among  the  swamps 
Lurked,  or,  with  venom  swollen,  issued  forth 
For  prey,  were  all  destroyed  ;  the  dense,  gray  fogs 
That  hung  o'er  fenny  pastures  were  dispersed ; 
The  rocks  were  rent  asunder ;  over  chasms 
Were  flung  these  bridges,  to  make  safe  the  way 
For  passengers  ; — ay,  by  a  thousand  daims, 
The  land  is  ours  for  ever ! — Shall  we  bear  it, 
That  this,  the  creature  of  a  foreign  lord. 
Shall  here  insult  us  on  our  own  free  soil  ?  « 

Is  there  no  help  for  us  ?    Must  we  bear  this  ? — 

[^A  great  commotion  takes  place  among  Ike  people,' J 
No  I — there's  a  limit  to  the  tyrant's  power. 
When  men,  oppressed,  can  find  no  aid  on  earth. 
To  rid  them  of  their  burden,  then  Miey  rise  ; 
The  people  rise ;  they  stretch  their  hands  to  heaven. 
And  thence  fetch  down  their  old,  eternal  rights ;    • 
Their  rights,  all— like  the  everlasting  lights 
There  shining  in  the  heavens — unchangeable, 
Imperishable  as  the  stars  themselves  I — 
Then  nature's  own  primeval  rule  returns ; 
Man  stands  in  battle,  ready  for  the  foe. 
Tis  our  last  means ;  but,  when  all  others  fail, 
We  draw  the  sword !— The  best  of  all  life's  boons 
We  will  defend  ! — In  front  of  this  our  land 
And  of  our  wives  and  children,  here  we  stand  I 

The  instantaneous  and  splendid  success  of  tbis  patriotic  dnusa 
is  noticed  in  a  letter  from  Zelter  to  Goethe :— -*  Schiller's  "Tell,?  ' 
says  Zelter, '  has  been  received  here,  in  Berlini  with  tbe  liveliest 


XXn.]  'wnflELK  TELL.'  SS7 

aoclamationi  and  has  been  plajed  Ance  in  Ae  eonne  of  Ae  kat 
eight  days.    The  people  like  the  apple  weD.' 

This  waa  only  the  beginning  of  a  aooees.  not  cuiiliiiwl  to 
theatrea,  bat  soon  apreading,  as  with  electiie  eneigT,  throagboat 
the  people,  who  felt  and  imdentood  aU  that  the  poet  had  intended 
to  say  to  the  men  of  his  own  nati(Mi.  He  had  talked  of  "**^»g' 
the  theatre  serve  as  a  school  for  tfcbing  Tirtae  and  patriotic  dero- 
tioD.  A  more  hopeless  ideal  coold  then  haidly  hare  been  dreamed 
of.  Frivolitiea  served  aa  opiatea  to  relieve  a  sense  of  national  degra- 
dation^ and  enthnslaam  was  made  to  appear  ridicnlonsL  Kotaebne^ 
it  waa  judged,  waa  a  poet  quite  good  enough  £ar  pec^fe  who  were 
governed  by  a  despot  priwcwing  neither  French  nor  GcBonn 
virtues. 

At  a  time  when  the  oontineDt  wm 
revival  of  orientaTdeapolism ;  when  men  and 
to  sabmit  to  soeh  discipline  aa  would  haidly  be  tolented  by  boya 
in  a  respectable  school;  when  the  monl  evil  of  tyanny  was  not 
more  apparent  than  the  eontemptiUe  nature  off  the  means  employed 
to  nphold  it ;  when  il  waa  expected  that  intelligent  nationa  conid 
be  governed  by  an  intellect  whidi,  tboogh  mged  by  a  migbly  wiU 
and  skilfnl  in  atiategyy  belonged  to  the  mfchaniral  dam;— at  sndb 
a  time,  Schiller  penevered  in  atiiving  on  towavda  hie  ideal,  in 
working — ^not  lor  the  marike^  aoeh  aa  it  was — bnt  tx  GcnHny* 
And  he  anoeeeded. 

So  great  waa  hia  aaceem  that— after  aU  that  baa  been  said  of 
his  defects — ^there  are  still  thooanids  of  readem  who  wifl  not  think 
that  we  have  assigned  too  many  pagea  in  this  book  to 
of  theli&andthewoikadf  FBmnoca  ScsBUuak 


338  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  LITERATURE.  TCh. 


CHAPTER  XXm. 
SEVENTH  PEBIOD.    1770-1830. 

SCBIILBA's     COTSMPOBABI3CS—- JEAK    PAUL — MTKOR    VOVTB — ^PBOSB 
FICn02f — LOW  LITEBATUBB — THB  DBAMA. 

Next  to  Schiller's  endeavours  to  improve  the  drama,  the  most 
important  movement  in  literature,  at  the  beginning  of  the  nine* 
teeuth  centuiy,  was  the  rise  of  the  Romantic  School,  represented 
by  the  brothers  Schlegel  and  other  writers.  Whatever  may  be 
thought  of  the  value  of  their  services  in  connection  with  religion^ 
art,  and  political  life,  it  is  clear  that  they  led* to  important  results, 
and  had  an  effect  on  tbe  progress  of  general  literature  in  the 
period  extending  from  1800  to  1820.  Without  attempting  to 
speak  very  precisely,  it  may  be  said,  that  the  Romantic  School 
became  powerful  at  the  time  when  Schelling  taught  his  first 
philosophy  (at  Jena),  and  that  it  declined  rapidly  when  Hegel's 
teaching  prevailed.  In  order  to  give  a  connected  account  of  the 
school  and  its  associated  interests,  it  will  be  convenient  to  notice 
fii'st  a  few  authors-  who  can  hardly  be  classed  in  any  other  way 
than  by  saying,  that  they  were  the  cotemporaries  of  Schiller. 

To  follow  the  beaten  track  of  several  literary  historians,  we 
ought  to  mention  in  the  first  place  a  few  versifiers  who  were 
ambitious  enough  to  write  epics ;  but  we  cannot  so  highly  esti- 
mate the  value  of  form  as  to  place  epic  writers  like  Alxinger 
and  Blumauer,  or  even  their  superiors,  the  lyric  poets  Holderlin 
and  Matthison,  above  a  greater  poet  who  wrote  in  prose,  and  who 
— though  justly  censured  tor  many  faults — ^had  a  wide  grasp  of 
sympathy  and  an  imaginative  power  that  distinguish  him  from 
many  of  his  versifying  cotemporaries.  * 

In  1706,  when  Qoethe  and  Schiller  had  left  far  behind  them 
the  days  of  Sturm  und  Drang,  there  came  to  Weimar — Hhe 
sacred  citadel,'  as  he  called  it — an  enthusiast  and  humorist  who 


XXIIL]  JEAN  PAUL.  339 

had  recently  gained  fame  by  writing  a  book  called  'Hesperus.' 
He  was  a  genial  child  of  nature,  and  came  from  Hof,  an  old  town 
in  the  Baireuth  district,  where  he  had  been  living  in  exlreme 
poverty,  of  which  he  made  no  secret ;  indeed,  he  rather  gloried  in 
it  Of  a  world  where  pretension  and  disguise  are  the  highest 
virtues,  and  where  poverty  is  almost  the  only  «in  that  can  he 
neither  gilded  nor  forgiven,  the  writer  of  ' Hesperus'  had  no  con- 
ception. He  had  'a  genial  time'  of  his  own;  it  began  in  hia 
childhood,  continued  through  all  his  privations,  and  ended  when 
he  died.  His  literary  life  was  commenced  by  the  mistake  of 
writing  some  satires  intended  to  be  sharp ;  but  he  ^  closed,'  as  he 
said, '  the  vinegar  manufactory '  in  1788.  His  first  visit  to  Qoethe 
at  Weimar  is  described  as  the  introduction  of  a  wild  '  forest-man ' 
to  polite  society.  Nevertheless,  he  was  received  with  enthusiasm  by 
Herder  and  Wieland,  and  was  lauded  by  some  otlier  people  who 
wished,  if  possible,  to  vex  Qoethe ;  but  the  attempt  failed,  for  the 
latter  was  incapable  of  so  base  a  passion  as  envy.  The  literary  hermit 
from  Hof  enjoyed  his  introduction  to  the  society  of  Weimar.  *  All 
the  women  here  are  my  friends '  (he  wrote  to  one  of  his  correspon- 
dents), '  and  the  whole  Court*  reads  my  books.  I  felt  shy  on  my 
first  visit  to  Goethe;  for  Frau  von  Kalb  had  told  me  that  he 
admired  nobody ;  not  even  himself.  .  .  .  However,  he  read  to  me 
one  of  his  splendid  unprinted  poems;  the  tones  of  his  V()ice,  while 
reading,  were  like  low  thunder  with  gentle  whisperings  of  rain. 
His  heart  warmed  while  he  was  reading,  and  the  fire  glowed  up 
through  the  ice-crust.  He  gave  me  a  grasp  of  the  hand ;  another, 
when  he  said  good-bye,  and  asked  me  to  •ome  again.'  It  is  jplain 
that,  though  Goethe  did  not  think  '  Hesperus '  a  classical  work, 
*he  might  have  agreed  well  with  the  gonial  and  humorous  author; 
but  some  gossips  at  Weimar  made  a  distance  between  the  two 
men.  Schiller  in  his  literary  journal,  Die  Horerty  had  called  Goethe 
a  modern  *  Fropertius,'  and  Jean  Paul  Bichter,  the  man  from  Hof, 
said  (truly  enough)  that  *  the  times  wanted  a  Tyrtseus.'  This  was 
of  course  reported  to  Goethe,  who  retorted  by  publishing  in  IHe 
Horen  a  satirical  epigram  entitled  '  A  Chinese  Visitor  in  Rome.' 
With  a  reference  to  Jean  Paul's  style,  the  celestial  visitor  con- 
fesses that  he  likes  all  sorts  of  gilt-gingerbread  decorations  better 
than  the  simplicity  and  quiet  beauty  of  the  antiquef  At  a  later 
time,  Goethe  spoke  more  kindly  of  Richter. 
*  JoHAKK  Pattl  Friebbich  Richteb  (commonly  called  JsAir 

z2 


^40  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [C^. 

Paul)  was  bom  in  1763  at  WuDsiedel  in  the  Baiieuth  district 
His  father,  who  was  in  his  early  life  a  schoolmaster  and  organist, 
was  appointed  pastor  at  Schwarzenbach  in  1776.  Jean  Paul's 
writings  abound  in  pleasiug  recollections  of  his  youthful  days, 
though  they  were  passed  in  poverty.  After  some  schooling  in  the 
gymnasium  at  Hof  and  a  course  of  studies  at  Leipzig,  he  made  the 
crude  attempts'  in  satire  already  referred  to,  but  without  success. 
He  was  for  some  time  employed  as  a  private  tutor  in  several 
families,  and,  after  the  publication  of  an  incomplete  romance 
entitled  '  The  Invisible  Lodge '  (1793),  gained  a  reputation  as  a 
humorist.  HLs  later  works  include  'Hesperus'  (1704),  'Flower, 
Fruit,  and  Thorn  Pieces'  (1796),  'The  Life  of  Quintus  Fixlein' 
(1796),  'Titan*  (1800-3),  'WUd  Oats,' and  several  other  very 
discursive  romances.  In  1798  he  was  induced  by  his  friendship  for 
Hercier  to  visit  Weimar  a  second  time,  and  there  he  stayed  until 
1800,  when  he  went  to  Berlin.  A  few  years  afterwards  he  re- 
ceived a  pension  which  enabled  him  to  live  in  modest  and  com* 
fortable  circumstances  at  Baireuth,  where  he  died  in  1825.  His 
biography  ('Truth  from  Jean  Paul's  Life'),  partly  written  by 
himself  and  completed  by  friends,  explains  many  traits  in  his 
writings. 

It  has  been  said  that  Jean  Paul  is  fully  appreciated  only  by  his 
own  countrymen,  and  it  may  be  added,  that  among  his  German 
critics  great  differences  may  be  found  in  their  respective  estimates 
of  his  merits.  Readers  who  admire  his  youthful  enthusiasm,  his 
fertility  of  imagination,  and' his  genial  humour  often  blended  with 
pathos,  have  given  him «  place  among  the  true  poets  who  have 
writfen  in  prose ;  others,  who  maintain  that  beauty  of  form  is  an 
essential  part  of  poetry,  have  severely  criticised  even  the  best  of' 
his  writings.  Both  parties  agree  that  his  romances  contain  abun- 
dant evidences  of  a  breadth  of  sympathy  as  remarkable  as  the 
wide  range  of  his  imaginative  powers.  His  rural  descriptions  and 
his  stories  of  lonely,  persevering 'attles  with  poverty  are  his 
most  successful  passages ;  but  he  luxuriates  in  the  wildest  liberty 
of  imagination,  and  it  is  his  humour  to  soar  away  from  all  such 
domestic  quietudes  as  he  wrote  of  in  '  The  Invisible  Lodge,'  and 
to  speculate  or  dream  on  remote,  mysterious  and  incomprehensible 
subjects.  His  reading  was  diffuse,  and  its  results  were  given  'in 
season  and  out  of  season.'  Accordingly  his  writings  contain 
frag;ment«  carried  away  from  all  classes  of  literature  and  throwA 


XXUI.]  JBAN  PAUL.  341 

together.  He  fills  liia  pages  with  the  results  of  the  miost  rnvtU 
tifarioas  reading ;  so  that,  sometimes^  to  understand  one  of  his 
stories,  one  must  he  something  of  a  geologist,  a  chemist,  an  as- 
tronomer, a  natural  historian,  and  an  antiquarian.  If  a  deluge 
should  hreak  in  upon  some  old  museums,  and  bear  away  on  its 
billows  promiscuously-scattered  curiosities  in  all  the  sciences,  it 
might  afford  a  symbol  of  his  style.  Or,  if  anyone  would  collect 
some  hundreds  of  miscellaneous  quotations  from  works  of  science, 
old  histories,  and  modern  newspapers,  put  them  together  and 
shake  them  well  in  a  bag,  then  write  a  story  to  employ  them  all 
as  they  came  to  hand,  he  would  miike  some  approach  to  Jean 
Paul's  ^tyle.  Indeed,  he  actually  wrote  on  a  plan  similar  to  that 
just  suggested  t  All  this  and  more  that  has  been  said  by  critics 
on  Jean  Paul's  sesthetic  offences  may  be  summed  up  in  jthe 
epigram  which  Schiller  addressed  to  him : — *  You  would  indeed 
be  worthy  of  admiration,  if  you  made  as  good  use  of  your  riches  as 
others  make  of  their  poverty/ 

After  all  that  may  be  said  of  his  rococo  manner,  there  ib  a  certain 
consistency  in  his  works;  but  it  is  to  be  found  (as  Goethe  says) 
only  in  their  moral  tone.  In  other  respects  they  are  ill-con- 
structed and  unfinished.  The  Fleffeffahre  (<  Wild  Oats '),  esteemed 
hy  the  author  as  his  best  work,  is  so  lengthy  in  descriptions  and  so 
microscopic  in  details  that  it  must  tire  the  most  patient  reader. 
*  The  true  way  of  ending  with  ennui  is  to  try  to  say  everything ; 
and  the  author  who  cannot  limit  himself  does  not  know  how 
to  write.'  It  must  be  regretted  that  Richter  never  learned  the 
value  of  these  maxims.  If  he  had  studied  them,  there  would 
have  been  less  difference  of  judgment  respecting  his  merits. 
There  may  be  found  in  his  works  more  of  hearty  sympathy  with 
life  than  we  find  in  thousands  of  books  by  authors  who  have 
treated  literature  as  an  amusement,  and  have  written  clear,  cold 
thoughts  in  a  correct  style.  With  these  remarks,  which  include 
the  sdbetance  of  many  critiques,  the  praise  and  the  blame  bestowed 
on  Jean  Paul  may  be  left  to  moderate  each  other.  There  is  only 
one  way  of  conveying  a  true  notion  of  his  genius,  and  that  is  to 
give  a  fair  selection  of  passages  from  his  writings ;  but  this  can 
be  done  here  only  in  the  form  of  abridged  translations. 

Jean  Paul  wrote  sixty-five  volumes  of  tales,  romances,  di- 
daetic  essays,  dreams,  visions,  and  homilies.  Considering  their 
voluminous  extent^  his  works  have,  with  all  their  rich  variety  of 


342  OUniKES  OF  QEBMAK  LITEBITUBE.  [Cs. 

imaginative  illustration,  a  remarkable  similarity  in  their  leading 
ideas.  By  his  early  attempts  in  satire — the '  Greenland  Lawsuits ' 
and  the  '  Selection  from  the  Devil's  Papers ' — he  gained  some 
experience  of  his  own  defects.  Then  he  abandoned  the  attempt 
to  write  sharp  and  direct  satire,  and  wrote,  with  genial  humour, 
of  the  sorrows  and  the  consolations  of  poverty  as  exemplified  in 
the  experience  of '  the  poor  little  schoolmaster  Wuz.'  There  is  a 
noble  playfulness  in  the  author's  descriptions  of  the  hardships 
with  which  he  was  too  well  acquainted.  In  another  story  of  a 
schoolmaster  (very  poor,  as  a  matter  of  course)  Jsan  Paul  tells 
how  his  starving  hero  yielded  to  the  strong  temptation  of  pur- 
chasing a  lottery-ticket,  giving  him  a  chance  of  beconyng  the 
owner  of '  certain  desirable  estates,  named  respectively  Walchem 
and  Lizelberg,  and  charmingly  situated  between  Salzburg  and 
Linz  I '  •  •  • .  <  The  circumstances  of  poor  Seemaus  (the  forlorn 
schoolmaster)  had  been — as  the  government  seemed  to  think — 
exactly  suitable  to  his  wretched  and  obscure  profession.'  Thus 
the  author  continues  the  story : — '  When  Moses  was  preparing  to 
become  the  teacher  and  the  lawgiver  of  the  Jewish  people,  he 
fasted  forty  days  upon  a  mountain;  and  from  this  sublime  ex- 
ample our  legislature  seems  to  have  deduced  the  conclusion,  that 
the  man  who  would  be  the  guide  and  teacher  of  the  rising  genera- 
tion, must  prove  his  capabilities  by  his  endurance  of  fasting.  A 
starving  schoolmaster  is  consequently  one  of  the  features  of  our 
civilisation,  and  Seemaus  is  a  perfectly  normal  specimen  of  his 
class.  Under  the  excitement  of  a  lottery-ticket  his  frail  nerves 
are  quivering,  and  in  a  letter  which  he  has  sent  to  me,  he  ex- 
presses an  apprehension  that  if  he  finds  himself  on  June  30 
owner  of  ^the  princely  estates  of  Walchem  and  Lizelberg, 
peopled  by  1,000  families ;  also,  the  new  and  spacious  mansion, 
with  thcr  brewery,  and  the  700  acres  of  forest,  with  shooting  and 
fishing" — he  shall  die  for  joy  1  His  letter  contains  the  following 
paragraph : —  .  •  •  ''  In  my  excited  condition,  I  have  been  so  in- 
judicious as  to  read  several  chapters  of  a  translation  of  *  Tissot  on 
l^ervous  Disorders,'  in  which  I  have  found  several  accounts  of 
persons  who  have  died  under  the  influence  of  sudden  joy.  For 
instance,  we  read  of  a  pope  dying  in  his  delight  on  hearing  of  a 
victory  gfdned  by  his  friends,  and  of  a  hound  which  died  in  the 
joy  with  whi&h  it  hailed  its  master  after  a  long  absence.  Weber 
tella  a  story  of  a  man  whose  nerves  wera  bo  much  aflected  b>y 


XXin.]  JEAN  PAUL.  343 

a  Rudden  shower  of  good  fortune,  that  he  became  paralytic,  and 
was  afflicted  with  stammering.  The  ^  Nuremberg  Correspondent ' 
has  lately  given  an  account  of  two  great  bankers  who  both  died 
suddenly  in  one  day,  one  in  joy  on  receiving  a  large  profit,  and 
the  other  in  sorrow  for  a  heavy  loss.  I  have  also  read  of  a  poor 
relation  of  Leibnitz,  who  heard  with  calmness -the  news  of  a  rich 
legacy  bequeathed  to  her ;  but  when  the  real  property — the  costly 
linen  and  valuable  silver  plate — ^were  spread  out  before  her  eyes,  she 
gazed  upon  them  for  a  moment  in  silent  ecstasy,  and  immediately 
expired !  What,  then,  must  I  expect  to  feel  when  I  look  upon 
the  princely  estates  of  Walchem  and  Lizelberg,  &c  &c.  &c.,  and 
realise  the  fact  that  they  are  mine ! " ' 

To  appease  the  natural  fears  of  the  hopeful  but  timid  pedagogue^ 
the  poor  author  writes,  to  confess  that  he*  has  been  guilty  of  the 
same  folly ;  he  has  purchased  the  lottery-ticket  numbered  19,983. 
'  If,'  says  he, '  this  number  prove  the  winning  card  in  the  game, 
what  a  destiny  will  be  minet  According  to  the  proclamation 
made  under  royal  authority  at  Munich,  I  shall  possess,  in  the 
first  place,  ^'  all  those  most  desirable  estates  named  respectively 
Walchem  and  Lizelberg,  in  the  district  of  Hausruckviertel, 
charmingly  and  beautifully  situated  between  Salzburg  and  Linz ; 
estates  which,  even  in  the  year  1750,  were  valued  ait  231,900 
Khenish  fiorins ;  item,  the  saw-mill  in  excellent  repair,  and  the 

complete  brewery  situated  at  Lizelberg Such  is  the  gold 

mine  of  which  I  shall  be  the  possessor  if  my  ticket  (one  out  of 
36,000)  prove  fortunate,  of  which  I  am  strongly  disposed  to  hope. 
....  So  now  I  can  put  my  finger  on  the  spot  in  my  almanac 
marking  the  day  when,  like  an  aloe  suddenly  bursting  into  bloom 
after  forty  years  without  fiowers,  I  shall  expand  my  golden 

blossoms,  and  flourish  aa  the  Croesus  of  our  times I  can 

assure  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  fully  sympathise  with  your 
excited  feelings,  for  I  am  now  in  circumstances  exactly  like  your 

own Many  others  around  me  are  hoping  and  fearing  to 

evaporate  in  joy  on  that  day,  and  such  is  the  benevolent  feeling 
prevailing  here  that  everyone  is  willing  to  become  a  martyr  for 
the  benefit  of  his  fellow  ticket-holders — ^willing,  among  36,000 
men,  to  be  the  one  man  doomed  to  die  I  .  •  .  However,  as  you 
wish  to  cherish  your  hope  of  gaining  Walchem,  Lizelberg,  the 
excellent  saw-mill,  and  the  complete  brewery,  &c.  &c.,  without 
giving  up  all  hope  of  life,  I  will  give  you  some  means  of  calming 


844  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBB.  [Co. 

jour  fears.  Allow  me  to  recommend  to  you  an  umbrella  to  defend 
your  head  against  the  sudden  thunder-shower  of  gold;  or  a 
parasol  to  guard  you  from  the  sun-stroke  of  good  fortune.  The 
danger  to  he  apprehended  when  we  step  suddenly  into  the  posses- 
sion of  such  enormous  wealth  is,  that  our  minds  will  be  unpre- 
pared to  cope  with  our  external  circumstances.  A  thousand 
schemes  of  expenditure  will  at  once  present  themselves.  While 
our  nerves  are  tingling  with  delight,  and  our  veins  are  throbbing, 
the  brain  will  be  oppressed  by  ideas  too  vast,  too  new,  and  too 
numerous  to  be  comprehended,  and  even  the  fatal  explosion  which 
you  apprehend  may  take  place.  To  prevent  such  a  calamity,  we 
must  now  calmly  prepare  ourselves  for  the  great  crisis.  We 
must  familiarise  our  minds  with  thoughts  of  the  possession  and 
the  distribution  of  such  wealth  as  will  soon  be  ours.  .  .  .  Accord- 
ingly, I  have  made  charts  of  the  travels  I  shall  enjoy  during  my 
first  year  in  possession.  ...  If  you  could  visit  me  now,  you 
would  find  among  my  papers  some  elegant  plans  and  elevations 
of  houses  (for  after  all  that  has  been  said  in  favour  of  the  mannon, 
I  shall  build  another  to  suit  my  own  taste) ;  item^  an  extensive 
catalogue  for  a  new  library ;  item,  a  plan  for  the  benefit  of  the 
tenants ;  besides  sundries,  such  as  memoranda, ''  to  buy  a  Silber- 
mann's  pianoforte/' ''  a  good  hunter,"  &c.  &c 

'You  will  not  be  surprised  to  learn  that  I  intend  to  con- 
tinue my  authorship;  but  it  will  be  in  future  conducted  in  a 
princely  style,  as  I  shall  maintain  two  clerks  as  quotation-makers 
and  copyists,  and  another  man  to  correct  the  press.  But  my 
great  caro  has  been  to  prepare  a  code  of  laws  for  my  1,000  families 
of  subjects.  .  •  .  Allow  me  to  remind  you  that  you  should  be  pre- 
paring a  magna  chaHa  for  your  subjects ;  for  all  rulers  must  be  bound 
before  they  can  be  obeyed.  .  •  •  The  old  Egyptians  wisely  tied 
together  the  fore-claws  of  the  crocodile,  in  order  that  they  might 
worship  him  without  danger. 

'  Prepare  yourself  according  to  my  plan,  and  then  you  need  not 
fear  that  the  great  gold  mine  will  iall  in  and  crush  you  as  you  begin 
to  work  it.  At  least  let  us  enjoy  for  a  few  days  the  hope  for 
which  we  have  paid  twelve  fiorins :  let  us  not  spoil  it  with 
anxieties.  This  hope  is  like  butter  on  a  dog's  nose,  which  makes 
him  eat  dry  bread  with  relish.  With  their  noses  anointed  with 
this  butter,  all  our  fellow  ticket-holders  are  now  eating  their  bread 
(tilack^  brown,  or  white,  earned  by  toil,  ox  teara^  or  servility)  with 


XXIIIJ  JBAN  PAUL.  345 

an  extm  relish.  THib,  for  the  present  Ume,  is  a  positive  enjoy  men  t^ 
and  if  we  are  wise^  we  shall  not  disturb  it' 

This  is  an  example  of  Jean  Paul's  quiet  stjle ;  but  it  shows 
only  one  side  of  his  character.  It  was  his  humour  to  range  from 
one  extreme  to  another,  and  a  great  part  of  his  writings  consists 
of  yariations  on  the  themes  given  in  '  The  Invisible  Lodge '  and 
in '  Titan*^ '  the  first  idyllic,  the  latter  containing  some  rhapsodies 
according  well  with  its  title.  The  stories  of  *  Quintus  Fixlein/ 
*  Siebenkas '  and  *  Der  Jubelsenior/  are  passages  of  transition  be- 
tween '  The  Lodge '  and '  Titan.'  Of  the  last-named  romance*  it 
would  be  as  hard  to  give  a  concise  account  as  to  give  a  notion  of 
a  forest  by  selecting  a  few  twigs.  But,  on  the  whole,  we  may 
venture  to  say,  that  Jean  Paul's  success  is  in  inverse  ratio  with 
his  ambition,  and  that  his  longest  works  are  not  his  best. 

In  '  Siebenkas,'  as  in  other  tales,  the  author  harps  too  much  on 
the  contrast  between  the  real  and  the  ideal.  The  Ideal  is  here 
represented  in  the  person  of  a  poor  author ;  the  Real  is  his  wife, 
who  plies  her  needle  while  Siebenkas  writes.  A  collision  between 
the  Ideal  and  the  Real  is  thus  described : — 

'  The  evil  genius  who  delights  in  raising  matrimonial  disputes 
out  of  mere  trifles  had  thrown  into  the  way  of  our  hero  a  classical 
anecdote  of  the  wife  of  Pliny  the  Younger,  who  (it  is  said)  held 
the  lamp  over  her  husband's  table,  while  he  was  employed  is 
writing.  Siebenkas  admired  this  example,  and,  as  he  had  no 
lamp,  he  suggested  that  his  wife  might,  by  snuffing  the  candle  fot 
him,  imitate,  in  a  humble  way,  the  conduct  of  that  noble  Roman 
lady.  Lenette — closely  engaged  with  her  needlework — allowed 
the  snuff  to  rise  almost  above  the  flame,  and  after  receiving  a 

lecture  on  this  oflence,  promised  to  do  better  another  time 

This  promise  was  duly  remembered  the  next  evening;  for  now  she 
would  hardly  keep  her  fingers  from  the  snuffers  for  five  minutes. 
As  Siebenkas  expressed  by  £cequent  nods  his  thanks  for  her 
attentiveness,  she  imagined  that  she  could  not  be  too  active,  and 
was  thus  led  into  an  extreme.  Her  husband  observed  this,  and 
said,  *' Try  to  preserve  a  just  medium."  But  again  Lenette  was 
too  hasty.  **  Really,"  exclaimed  Siebenkas,  "  was  there  any  need 
of  snuffing  then?"  Lenette  now  tried  to  find  '^the  just  me- 
dium," but  it  was  too  late.  ''Now,  now  I"  said  the  author. 
*^  Yes,  yes  I "  she  responded,  immediately  perfonning  the  required 
amputation.    At  length  Siebenkas  became  deeply  engaged  in  his 


346  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [On. 

*  • 

m 

writing ;  and  Lenette,  being  left  without  a  prompter,  tboaglit  so 
much  of  her  needlework,  tbat  the  forgotten  wick  rose  again  in 
dismal  blackness  as  a  witness  against  her.  Siebenkas  fixed  fk 
despairing  look  upon  it ;  then  threw  down  his  pen,  and  exclaimed, 
**  This  is  a  miserable  life  for  a  poor  author !  I  have  not  in  all  the 
world  a  friend  who  will  even  snuff  a  candle  for  me  I ''  So  say- 
ing, he  hastily  snuffed  it  out. 

'In  the  interval  of  darkness  which  followed,  he  walked  to  and 
fro,  imd  expressed  some  unfavourable  views  of  feminine  charac- 
teristics. *^  Women,"  said  he,  '^  have  no  just  sense  of  moderation ; 
but  win  always  do  either  too  much  or  too  little  t "  As  this 
abstract  theory  provoked  no  answer,  he  proceeded  to  apply  hia 
remarks,  and  complained  that  his  wife  had  always  been  unwilling 
to  perform  for  him  even  the  most  trifling  servicea.  Even  this  ex* 
torted  no  reply. 

'  *^  Indeed,"  he  exclaimed,  rising  to  a  declamatory  tone,  ''  when 
have  I  required  any  save  the  slightest  services  P  And  when  have 
even  these  been  paid  to  me  P  Now  I  demand  an  answer. 
Speak ! " 

'  Lenette  said  nothing ;  but  lighted  the  candle,  and  placed  it  on 
the  table,  while  Siebenkas  saw  tears  in  her  eyes  for  the  first  time 
since  their  marriage/ 

These  excerpts  may  serve  as  examples  of  the  writer's  quiet 
humour  and  of  two  of  his  peculiarities ;  his  lo^  of  bringing  in  many 
references  to  his  reading,  and  his  minuteness  in  descriptions.  The 
account  given  of  snuffing  the  candle  (whioh  we  have  closely 
abridged)  occupies  four  or  five  pages  in  '  Siebenkas.'  To  show  that 
such  passages  represent  only  one  side  of  Jean  Paul's  genius,  we  may 
refer  to  his  terrible  'Vision  of  a  Battle*Field,'  and  to  the  gloom 
and  despair  of  his  '  Dream  of  Atheism.'  But  as  a  shorter  speci- 
men of  lUchter's  serious  style  we  may  translate  two  or  three 
paragraphs  from  the  dream  of  *  A  New  Year's  Eve.' 

'  At  midnight,  when  the  old  year  was  departing,  there  stood  at 
his  window  an  Old  Man,  looking  forth,  with  the  aspect  of  a  long 
despair,  on  the  calm  never-fading  heavens,  and  on  the  pure,  white 
and  quiet  earth,  where  there  seemed  to  exist  then  no  creature  so 
sleepless  and  so  miserable  as  himself  1  Now  near  the  grave,  this 
Old  Man  had,  as  the  results  of  all  his  long  career,  nothing  but  errors, 
sins,  and  diseases — a  shattered  body,  a*  desolated  soul,  a  poisoned 
heart,  and  an  age  of  remorse.    The  beautiful  years  of  his  you£h 


XXmj  JEAN  PAUL.  347 

were  all  cbanged  into  dismal  goblins  slirinking  away  now,  to  hide 
themselves  from  the  dawn  of  another  New  Year.  ....  In  his 
desperation  and  unutterable  grief,  he  looked  up  towards  the 
heavens  and  cried  aloud : — ^  Oh,  give  me  back  my  youth ! — O 
Father  I  place  me  but  once  more  upon  the  cross-way,  that  I  may 
choose  the  path  on  the  right  hand,  and  not  again  that  on  the 
left"  .... 

'  But  his  Father  and  his  Youth  were  gone—for  ever  I  He  saw 
misguiding  lights  (iffnesfahd)  gleaming  forth  out  of  the  marsh, 
and  fading  away  in  the  churchyard.  ''There  are  my  days  of 
folly  I "  he  sold.  Then  a  shooting  star  fell  from  heaven,  flickered, 
and  vanished  on  the  ground.  *'  That  is  myself  I "  said  he ;  while 
the  poisoned  fangs  .of  remorse  were  biting  into  his  bleeding 
heart.  •  •  •  • 

'Then,  suddenly,  a  peal  of  bells — distant  church  music  hailing 
the  New  Year — sounded  through  the  calm  air,  and  his  agony  was 
appeased.  He  looked  on  the  dim  horizon,  and  on  the  wide  world 
all  around,  and  he  thought  of  the  friends  of  his  youth  ,*  of  the 
men  who — happier  and  better  than  himself-— were  now  teachers 
of  the  people,  or  fathers  of  joyous  children  growing  up  to  a  pros* 
perous  manhood,  and  h^  exclaimed: — "Ah,  my  Parents'!  I  too 
might  have  been  sleeping  now  with  eyes  not  stained  with  tears, 
if  I  had  followed  your  advice  and  had  responded  to  your  New  Year*s 
prayers  for  me  1 "  .  .  .  .  He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and 
a  thousand  burning  tears  streamed  down  his  cheeks,  while  in  his 
despair  he  sighed  :— "  Oh,  give  me  back  my  youth  I  "...  . 

'  And  his  youth  suddenly  returned — he  awoke,  and  lo,  all  the 
terror  of  this  New  Year's  Eve  had  been  only  a  dream  I  He  was 
still  young ;  but  the  sins  of  his  youth  had  not  been  dreams.  How 
thankful  he  felt  now,  that  he  was  still  young ;  that  he  had  power 
to  forsake  the  false  path  and  to  enter  the  road  lighted  by  a  bright 
.sun  and  leading  on  to  rich  fields  of  harvest  I 

'  O  yoimg  reader  I  if  you  have  wandered  from  the  right  path, 

turn  back  now  I    Or  this  terrible  dream  may,  some  day,  be  for 

you  a  condemnation;   and  when  you  cry  out:    "O  beautiful 

Youth,  return  1 "  your  prayer  may  not  be  heard }  your  Youth  may 

^  come  back  to  you  no  more.' 

A  sermon  like  that  may  make  readers  pardon  many  of  Richter*s 
faults  of  style.  He  wrote,  besides  the  romances  already  named 
and  others  left  unnoticed,  several  discursive,  didactic  works ', — ^th» 


348  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUBE.  [Ca. 

Kampanmihai  (an  Esaay  on  Immortality) ;  an  '  lDtFoducti<Mi  to 
iBsthetics ; '  Levana,  an  Essay  on  Education  $  and  Selina,  an  un*- 
iinished  Essay  on  Immortality.  This  laat  work  was  placed  on 
his  bier  and  carried  to  his  grave. 

Jean  PauFs  virtues  won  the  love  of  enthnmaatic  readers, 
especially  of  the  young  and  of  women.  Their  interest  in 
his  sentiments  made  them  overlook  all  his  faults.  Many  who, 
when  young,  admired  his  works,  afterwards  grew  tired  of  them, 
and  readers  of  mature  age,  accustomed  to  read  dry,  sober  authors, 
could  hardly  be  induced  to  read  many  pages  of  Richter ;  but  his 
admirers  forgave  all  his  sins  of  taste,  because  he  had,  what  many 
correct  writers  have  wanted — a  sympathetic  heart. 

The  subjects  which  he  treated  most  charminglywere  spring-time, 
childhood,  poverty,  the  patience  of  women  amid  the  cares  and 
sorrows  of  domestic  life,  and  the  sacrifices  made  by  the  poor  to 
aid  the  poor.  '  He  loved  to  travel  in  imagination '  (says  one  of 
his  friendly  critics)  '  through  mist  and  storm,  and  over  the  (k>ien 
brook  to  the  snow-covered  cottage  of  the  village  schoolmaster; 
there  to  shara  in  the.  joys  of  the  children  on  Christmas 
£ve.'  He  was  never  less  successful  than  when  he  attempted  to 
describe  scenes  in  the  so-called  '  higher  circles  of  society.'  There 
Jean  Paul  was  quite  out  of  his  element.  It  must  not  be  forgotten, 
in  his  praise,  that  his  general  tendency  is  to  encourage  virtue  and  to 
cherish  all  the  best  hopes  of  youth.  If  many  women  were  counted 
among  his  readers  there  was  a  reason  for  it ;  they  appreciated  his 
respectful  sympathy. 

BiciiTEB*s  humour  and  earnestness  have  been  represented  as 
fairly  as  our  limits  allow;  but  there  remains  to  be  noticed  an 
amiable  phase  of  his  character — his  delight  in  dreaming  of  the 
happiness  of  other  men ;  especially  of  a  domestic  happiness  such 
as  the  realities  of  thia  world  can  too  seldom  afford*. — *  Qo  away, 
sweet  tones ! '  says  Jean  Paul  (in  a  description  of  music),  ^  for  ye 
tell  me  of  a  beautiful  world  that  I  shall  never  see.'  The  words 
might  have  been  applied  to  the  author's  own  vision  of '  The  Morn- 
ing and  the  Evening  of  Life/  which  may  serve  as  a  conclusion  to 
our  quotations.  It  must  be  given — ^like  all  our  excerpts  from  Jean 
Paul — ^in  the  form  of  an  abridged  translation : —  ^ 

*  GoTTBBicH  Habthakn  lived  with  his  father,  the  aged  pastor 
Df  a  church  in  the  village  of  Heim.  Happy  were  the  old  man's 
declining  yeais ;  for,  as  his  strength  failed,  hia  son  tteppad  into 


XXni.J  JEKS  PAUL.  349 

his  place,  and  fulfilled  his  dutiee ;  and  truly  edifying  were  the 
homilies  of  the  young  preacher  to  the  fathered  heart.  ...  If  it  is 
painful  to  differ  in  opinion  from  one  whom  we  love,  to  turn  away 
the  head  from  one  to  whom  the  heart  is  always  inclined,  it  is 
donhly  sweet  at  once  to  lore  and  believe  in  accordance  with  one  in 
whom  we  find  our  own  better  self  sustained  and  perpetuated  with 
youthful  energy.  Thus  life  is  like  a  fair  starry  night,  when  no 
star  sets  until  another  has  arisen.  Qottreich  had  a  paradise 
about  him,  in  which  he  held  the  post  of  gardener  for  his  father, 
and  enjoyed  all  its  fruits,  while  he  laboured  chiefly  for  the 
gratification  of  the  old  man.  Every  Sunday  brought  a  new  de- 
light in  a  new  homily  prepared  to  gladden  the  father's  heart.  . . . 
The  moistened  eye  of  the  old  clergyman,  his  hands  folded  now 
and  then  in  silent  thanksgiving  during  the  sermon,  made  for  the 
young  preacher  an  Ascension  festival  out  of  every  Sunday.  Those 
who  imagine  that  the  preparation  and  delivery  of  a  course  of 
homilies  throughout  a  year  must  be  a  dry  task,  should  have  heard 
this  father  and  his* son  convernng  on  the  last,  or  consulting  on 
the  next  discourse  for  the  little  congregation  at  Heim. 

*  A  new  member  was  added  to  this  congregation.  Justa,  a  young 
maiden  of  considerable  wealth,  and  an  orphan,  left  her  residence 
in  a  neighbouring  town  to  find  rural  happiness  in  the  little  village 
where  Gottreich  lived  with  his  father.  Two  may  be  happy  to- 
gether, but  three  may  be  still  happier ;  for  two  may  talk  on  the 
merits  of  the  third,  and  so  the  harmonic  triad  of  friendship  will 
allow  of  several  pleasing  variations.  This  required  third  person 
was  found  in  Justa ;  for,  after  she  had  heard  four  or  five  of  the 
young  preacher's  homilies,  she  consented  to  listen  also,  very 
patiently,  to  his  addresses,  and  resolved  to  withhold  her  hand 
Duly  until  the  disturbances  of  the  country  (for  It  was  then  the 
time  of  our  war  with  the  French)  should  subside  into  peace.  .  .  . 

'  In  the  fresh  delight  of  this  May  morning  of  his  life,  Gottreich 
oould  not  avoid  thinking  that  his  morning  star  must  some  day 
shine  as  his  evening  star.  He  said  to  himself: — "  My  prospects 
are  clear  and  joyous  now ;  the  happiness  of  life,  the  beauty  of  the 
universe,  the  glory  of  the  Creator,  the  constellations  of  eternal 
truths ; — I  see  and  feel  tjiem  all  clearly  and  warmly.  But  it  may 
be  otherwise  with  me  in  the  latest  hours  of  my  life ;  for  approach- 
ing death  sometimes  holds  an  inverted  telescope  before  the  eye, 
and  then  nothing  is  seen  but  a  drear,  void  space,  extending  be- 


360  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITERATUKK  [Ch. 

tween  ns  and  all  whom  we  love.  But  should  this  mere  optical 
deception  be  taken  as  the  truth  P  No ;  this  is  the  truth  which  I 
see  and  feel  now,  in  the  youth  and  vigour  of  my  life.  Let  me 
remember  it  well,  that  the  light  of  my  morning  may  appear  again 
in  my  evening  sky/'  With  this  intention  he  opened  a  diary,  and 
wrote  down  his  best  sentiments  under  this  title — "  BecoUecticms 
of  the  Fairest  Hours  preserved  to  cheer  the  Latest  Hours  of 
Life."  .  .  . 

*  From  these  happy  occupations  Gottreich  was  called  away  by 
the  demands  of  his  country  during  the  warfare  of  liberation.  He 
left  his  father  under  the  care  of  Justa,  and  took  a  place  in  a 
regiment  of  volunteers.  He  closed  his  campaign  after  some  active 
service,  but,  somewhat  to  his  disappointment,  without  a  wound. 
And  now,  as  peace  again  brooded  over  the  rescued  country,  the 
young  soldier  travelled  homeward  through  towns  and  villages  full  of 
festivity,  but  knowing  that  none  were  happier  than  himself. 

'  As  he  approached  his  native  place,  the  littie  church  tower  of 
Helm  seemed  to  grow  up  out  of  the  earth,  and  as  he  went  down 
into  the  valley,  the  lowly  parsonage  again  met  his  eye,  while  all  its 
windows  were  shining  in  evening  radiance.  But  when  he  entered 
the  house,  he  was  surprised  to  find  the  lower  rooms  empty.  A 
slight  noise  called  his  attention  to  his  father's  -chamber.  He 
entered  it,  and  found  Justa  beside  the  bed  of  the  old  clergyman, 
.who  sat  propped  up  by  pillows,  while  his  pale  wasted  fiice  gleamed 
strangely  in  the  rosy  light  of  evening.  Justa  related,  in  a  few 
words,  how  the  father  had  overwrought  himself  in  attention  to 
his  duties,  and  had  remained  now  for  some  days  half  sunk  in 
lethargy,  taking  no  interest  in  all  that  had  once  been  dear  to  him. 
As  she  spoke  the  old  man  heard  not,  but  sfat  gazing  on  the  setting 
sun  surrounded  ^ith  crimson  and  golden  clouds. 

*  After  a  littie  time  the  sky  was  overcast,  a  dead  calm  lasted  for 
a  few  minutes,  and  then  a  heavy  shower  fell,  accompanied  with 
lightning.  This  disturbance  of  elements  seemed  to  waken  the 
dying  father  from  his  stupor.  '<  See  I "  said  he,  pointing  to  the 
sky ;  *'  see  the  glorious  works  of  God  t    And  now,  my  son,  tell 

.me,  for  my  comfort,  something  of  the  goodness  of  the  Almighty 
One,  as  you  told  us  in  your  sermons  in  the  spring.'' 

*  Gottreich  wept,  as  he  thought  that  the  littie  manual  which  he 
had  written  for  lus  ovni  consolation*  must>  tirst  be  read  at  his 
Cdlher's  death-bed.   He  drew  out  his  littie  book  oi  **  Recollections^" 


XXIII.]  JEAN  PAUL.  •  361 

and  read  a  passage  with  a  faltering  Toice,  while  the  old  man 
folded  his  hands  in  silent  prayer.  **  Have  jou  not  known  and 
felt/'  said  Gottreich^  **  the  presence  of  that  Being  whose  infinitude 
is  not  only  displayed  in  power  and  wisdom,  but  also  in  love  P 
Bemember  now  the  sweet  hours  of  childhood,  when  the  dear  blue 
sky  of  day,  and  the  dark  blue  sky  of  night,  opened  upon  you,  like 
the  eyes  of  your  preserving  Angel.  Think  how  a  thousand  reflec- 
tions of  the  Eternal  Goodness  have  played  around  you,  from  heart 
to  heart,  from  eye  to  eye  of  mankind,  as  one  light  shines  from 
sun  to  sun,  and  from  world  to  world,  throughout  the  uni* 
verse."  .  .  • 

'Gottreich  read  other  passages  from  his  manual,  and  adminifr- 
tered  Christian  consolation  to  his  father.  The  old  man  drank  in 
the  words  of  his  son,  and  seemed  to  be  refreshed  with  the  recol- 
lections of  his  own  life,  as  he  whispered  now  and  then,  with  fail- 
ing breath,  *'  All  is  good—all  is  good  I "  At  last  the  brightnesa 
of  these  views  of  life  was  lost ;  not  in  the  darkuesi  of  death,  but 
in  the  superior  light  of  another  life. 

' "  He  is  gone/*  said  Gottreich.  .  .  .  ''  The  sun  has  set  and 
risen  at  once,  and  he  knows  now  that  the  same  light  makes  glorious 
both  the  morning  and  the  evening."' 

'The  accomplishment  of  verse'  which  was  wanting  in  Jean 
Paul  was  the  chief  talent  possessed  by  several  of  his  cotemporaries 
who,  writing  in  rhyme,  were  very  kindly  called  'poets.'  The 
lyrical  verse-  writers  were  better  than  the  writers  of  epics  who  m  ay  be 
briefly  noticed  here ;  for  they  belonged,  with  hardly  any  excep- 
tion, to  the  imitative  class.  If  an  exception  must  be  made,  it 
would,  perhaps,  be  in  favour  of  the  unhappy  young  writer  Fbaitz 
Anton  von  Sonnbnbebg  (1779-1806),  who,  when  only  fifteen 
years  old,  began  to  write  a  poem  {Daa  Weltende)  on  'The  End  of 
the  World.'  Another  epic,  Dcnatoaj  on  the  same  subject,  was 
completed  only  a  short  time  before  the  writer  committed  suicide  by 
throwing  himself  from  the  window  of  a  house  in  Jena. 

The  choice  of  such  a  theme  as  'The  End  of  the  World'  is  enough 
to  show  that  the  writer  had  no  true  conception  of  what  an  epic 
poem  ought  to  be.  When  the  destruction  of  the  world  is  Iflrst 
meditated,  an  assembly  of  all  'the  guardian-angels  of  men'  is 
convened,  and  the  majority  votes  for  annihilation.  One  angel, 
Michael,  who  votes  for  a  reprieve,  justifies  his  vote  on  the  ground 
that  two  righteous  persons — the  old  man  Eliora  and  a  youth 


352  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

named  Heroal — are  still  living  on  the  earth.  The  reprieve  is 
granted,  on  the  condition  that  both  tempting  demons  and  guardian- 
angels  shall  leave  the  world,  and  that  men  shall  be  left  free  to 
determine  their  own  course  of  li fe.  Eliora  and  Heroal,  as  preachers 
of  repentance,  travel  from  land  to  land;  but  everywhere  their 
warnings  are  despised.  They  are  then  called  away  from  the  earth, 
and  Donatoa,  '  the  angel  of  death/  receives  permission  to  destroy 
the  world.  Elopstock  suggested  the  more  ambitious  passages  in 
this  wild  epic ;  but  Wieland  was  mostly  imitated  by  epic  versi- 
fiers. 

LiTDwio  HEnrRTCH  (von)  Nioolay  borrowed  both  his  materials 
and  his  style  from  Bojardo,  Ariosto  and  Wieland,  and  the  author  of 
'  Oberon '  was  the  principal  source  of  all  such  inspiration  as  visited 
JoHANN  VON  Alxingeb  and  Friebbich  Attgust  MiJLLEB,  whose 
names  are  mentioned  here  only  in  deference  to  the  judgment  of 
some  conservative  literary  historians. 

The  irony  th^  Wieland  had  made  too  fashionable  was  imitated 
by  ALors  Blttmaxteb,  a  Jesuit,  who,  after  his  order  had  been 
suppressed  in  Austria,  settled  as  a  bookseller  in  Vienna,  and  wrote, 
among  other  trifles,  a  travesty  of  Virgil's  epic.  Eoseoabten  and 
Neuffeb,  who  imitated  the  homely  idyllic  style  of  Voss,  may 
be  mentioned  here  as  fair  'specimens  of  several  other  versifiero 
whom  we  cannot  even  name. 

Of  several  popular  poets  who  wrote  in  German  dialects,  Johann 
Mabtin  Ustebi  (1763-1827)  was  one  of  the  best.  Ilis  idylls, 
De  Vikari  and  De  Herr  Heiri^  are  in  Swiss-German.  Johann 
Gbubel,  a  very  homely  but  humorous  versifier,  employed  the 
Niimberg  dialect  in  his  comic  stories,  and  Daniel  Abnold  wrote 
a  comedy  and  some  poems  in  the  dialects  of  Strasaburg  and  Alsace. 
The  poems  written  in  Alemannian  German  by  Johann  Peteb 
Hrbel  (1760-1826)  were  truly  popular  and  were  praised  by 
Goethe;  but  the  stories  in  prose  contained  in  Hebel's  SchaU' 
hdstlein  ('  The  Casket ')  are,  we  think,  more  interesting  than  his 
verses. 

Among  didactic  versifiers  Nettbeok  gained  a  reputation  by  a 
poem  (so  called)  on  '  Medicinal  Waters,'  and  Tiedge  wrote 
'  Urania,'  an  essay  in  verse  on  the  Immortality  of  the  Soul.  His 
diction  is  correct  and  harmonious ;  but  is  more  rhetorical  than 
poetical.  '  Urania '  was,  however,  very  popular  in  its  day,  and 
ita  topics  were  so  often  discussed  in  society  that  they  were  made 


XXm.]  LYRICAL  POETRY.  3^3 

tiresome.  Goethe  (who  firmly  believed  in  the  soul's  immortality) 
was  anpoyed  by  incessant  arguments  about  it,  introduced  by 
'ladies,  who/  as  he  said,  'had  nothing  else  to  do.'  '  When  they 
examined  me  on  the  doctrine/  said  he,  'I  told  them,  I  hoped  to 
meet  in  another  world  none  of  those  who  believed  in  it  here. 
For  how  should  I  be  tormented  I  The  pious  would  throng  round 
me  and  say,  '*  Were  we  not  right  ? — Did  we  not  predict  it  P — 
Has  it  not  happened  just  as  we  said  P  '' ' 

A  less  tedious  didactic  versifier,  Christofh  Friedrigh  Haug, 
was  a  humorist  who  wrote — besides  lyrical  poems  and  ballads — 
one  hundred  epigrams,  all  sportively  addressed  to  one  of  his 
friends  who  had  a  very  long  nose.  The  following  may  serve  as  a 
Buificient  specimen  of  Hang's  hyperbolical  style : — 

When  yon  were  lying  on  the  ground 

And  looking  at  the  sky,  the  people, 
In  all  the  hamlets  far  around. 

Said,  *  Look  ! — they've  built  another  steeple.* 

Of  all  the  young  poets  who  were  followers  of  Schiller,  the  most 
promising  wtis  Friebrich  Holderlin,  bom  in  1770.  He  studied 
at  Tiibingen,  visited  Schiller  at  Jena,  and  was  afterwards  engaged 
as  a  private  tutor.  His  enthusiastic  admiration  of  the  life,  the 
poetry  and  art,  and  even  the  religion  of  the  ancient  Greeks  was 
not  an  affectation,  but  a  fixed  idea.  It  was  expressed  in  his 
romance,  *  Hyperion,  or  the  Hermit  in  Greece '  (1797),  as  well  as 
in  odes  and  hymns  written  in  antique  metres  and  showing  both 
earnest  feeling  and  imaginative  power.  After  leaving  a  situation 
iu  Bordeaux,  the  poet  wandered  alone  through  France,  fell  into  a 
mood  of  deep  melancholy,  and,  in  1802,  was  found  almost  entirely 
deprived  of  his  intellectual  faculties.  In  this  deplorable'  condition 
— still  sometimes  writing  verses  and  often  expressing  a  delight  in 
the  beauties  of  nature — he  lived  on  for  the  long  space  of  forty-one 
years. 

The  lyrical  poems  written  by  Friedrich  von  Matthison 
(1761-1831)  were  praised  by  Schiller,  and  must,  therefore,  have 
some  merit ;  but  it  consists  mostly  in  their  diction  and  their 
melodious  versification.  The  weD-known  song,  *  Adelaide,'  set  to 
music  by  Beethoven,  was  written  by  Matthison.  His  style  was 
partly  imitated  by  his  friend  Jouann  Gaudenz  von  Salis-Seewis 
(1762-1834),  who  studied  in  a  school  at  Colmar  (kept  by  the 
blind  fabulist,  Pfefiel),  and,  afterwardB,  served  in  the  French  army. 


854  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

His  lyrical  poems  Have  a  melancholj  but  not  unpleasant  tone,  and 
there  is  true  feeling  in  some  of  his  descriptive  passages. 

JoHANN  Gottfried  Ssume  (1763-1810),  though  included 
among  lyrical  poets,  was  more  noticeable  as  a  prose-writer  and  a 
bitter  satirist.  lie  was  for  some  years  a  soldier ;  then  a  corrector 
of  the  press,  and  to  recruit  his  health  travelled  on  foot  through  a 
great  part  of  Europe,  and  published  an  account  of  his  tour  under 
the  title  ^  A  Journey  to  Syracuse.'  It  tells  more  of  his  own  cha- 
racter and  of  his  political  opinions  than  of  the  scenery  on  his  way. 
When  he  climbed  Mount  ^Etna,  he  was  accompanied,  he  tells  us, 
by  a  travelling  Briton,  to  whom  he  ascribes  the  following  plati- 
tude given  as  an  estimate  of  the  view  from  the  mountain  : — '  Tis 
worth  a  young  man's  while  to  mount  and  see  this ;  for  there's  not 
such  a  sight  in  the  parks  of  Old  England.' 

Jens  Baogbsen  (1765-1826),  a  Dane,  who  wrote  some  hu- 
morous and  other  poems  in  German,  deserves  to  be  remembered 
chiefly  for  his  kindness  to  Schiller  at  the  time  when  the  poet's 
health  failed.  A  strange  epic,  intended  to  be  comical,  on  the 
subject  of  '  Adam  and  Eve,'  may  be  mentioned  as  a  proof  of  the 
writer's  bad  taste.  He  represents  Eve  as  conversing  in  French 
with  the  Serpent.  Ba^gesen  was  one  of  the  most  resolute  oppo- 
nents of  the  writers  belonging  to  the  Romantic  School.  He 
hardly  understood  their  best  thoughts;  but  he  justly  ridiculed 
some  of  their  mannerisms.  There  is  hardly  anything  in  his  lyrical 
poems  better  than  his  philosophical,  bacchanalian  song~a  parody 
on  some  of  the  phrases  or  formulas  used  in  Fichte's  system  of 
philosophy.  The  first  strophe  may  be  rather  freely  translated  as 
follows : — 

Since  old  father  Noah,  his  cares  to  assuage. 

First  sqaeesed  out  the  grape's  purple  hlood. 
His  example's  heen  followed  from  age  to  age, 
Yet  no  roan  has  understood, 

Hitherto,  the  strict  logic  of  drinking : 
Men  have  tippled,  as  if  the  act — 
Like  living — required  not  a  word  of  instruction, 
Or  could  always  be  properly  done  without  thinking ; 
Oftoping,  in  fact. 
To  this  day,  we  have  no  scientific  deduction  I 

• 

The  subsequent  stanzas  of  the  song  are  better  than  this,  but 
could  not  be  readily  put  into  English.  Nothing  of  its  kind  can 
be  better  than  the  assumed  philosophical  gravity  and  the  strictaess 


XXni.]  LYKICAL  POETElr.  355 

of  logical  sequence  -with  which  the  Fichtean  fonnulffi  are  applied, 
and  the  conclusiye  result  obtained  by  the  process  must  have  been 
amusing  enough  to  the  students  at  Jena,  who  respected  Fichte, 
but  could  enjoy  a  laugh  at  his  expense. 

The  names  of  the  minor  poets,  or  yersifiers,  already  mentioned, 
fairly  represent  the  lower  poetical  literature  of  the  age.  We  may, 
however,  yery  briefly  notice  some  specimens  of  poetry  written  by 
women.  Some  of  the  idylls  and  other  poemQ  written  by  Amalie 
voir  Helwig — a  court-lady  of  Weimar — are  graceful.  Friede- 
BIKE  Bbuk  imitated  Matthison,  whose  own  poems  can  hardly  be 
called  original.  The  name  of  another  amiable  poetess,  Eakolike 
KuDOLPHi,  must  be  mentioned  with  much  respect  for  her  amiable 
character;  but  her  poems  are  less  interesting  than  her  book  ^n- 
titled  'Pictures  of  Female  Education'  (1808).  She  superintended, 
for  seyeral  years,  an  excellent  ladies'  school  at  Heidelberg,  and 
gave  in  her  writings  the  results  of  her  own  observations  on 
teaching.  'The  formation  of  the  characters  of  young  women,' 
says  this  writer, '  should  be  the  matron's  care  ;  but  men  ought  to 
be  our  teachers  in  all  etudies  that  are  purely  scientific  and  in- 
tellectual. In  yain  would  men  yie  with  us  in  quick  intuitive 
perception,  or  in  delicacy  of  feeling,  and  as  vainly  might  we 
attempt  to  rival  men  in  the  depth  or  the  close  order  of  scientific 
thinking.  Women  educated  mostly  among  men  lose  their  best 
distinctive  qualities,  and  women  confined  to  the  society  of  their 
own  sex  become  nairow  in  their  minds  and  their  sympathies.' 
These  remarks  are  noticeable  as  contrasted  with  more  recent  doc- 
trines on  the  education  of  women.  Karoline  Kudolphi  describes 
as  unnatural  all  riyalry  between  men  and  women. 

In  Schiller's  literary  journals — Die  Hcren  and  Der  Mutenalma' 
nach — may  be  found  several  poems  written  by  LuiSE  Karoline 
Braofhann,  who  was  hardly  more  than  fourteen  years  old  when 
the  poet  accepted  some  of  her  contributions.  Her  biography  is 
one  of  the  most  melancholy  in  the  pages  of  literary  history.  At 
'one  time  she  maintained  herself  by  writing  romances,  for  which 
she  receiyed  as  payment  only  four  dollars  a  sheet,  with  the  under- 
standing that  one  half  of  her  pay  must  be  accepted  in  the  shape 
of  books.  Her  life,  made  miserable  through  adverse  circum- 
stances and  by  her  own  want  of  self-control,  was  terminated  by 
suicide.  It  would  be  too  severe  to  criticise  her  novels,  written  in 
the  circunuitances  referzed  to.    Seyeral  of  her  ballads  are  good, 

aa2 


856  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

and  her  lyrical  poems  are  far  better  than  a  reader  of  Her  biography 
might  expect  They  contain,  indeed,  some  passages  remarkable 
for  a  poetic  expression  of  true  feeling,  such  as  inspired  the  following 
stanzas  on  Consolation  in  Absence : — 

Our  eyes  still  drink  from  the  same  fomit  of  light ; 

The  same  wind  round  us  softly  breathes  or  blows  i 
We  both  lie  veiled  in  the  same  doud  of  night ; 

One  Spring  to  both  its  opening  glories  shows. 

When  morning  dawns,  I  cry :  '  Awaken,  day  I 

And  strew  thy  r^^ses  wheresoever  he  roam  ; ' 
When  in  the  sea  the  sun  is  sinking — '  Stay  I 

And  cast  a  gleam  to  light  him  to  his  home.' 

In  visionary,  moonlit,  silent  night, 
When  ghostly  forms  on  dislaot  mountains  shin^ 

My  heart  beats  high — I  say  with  deep  delight : 
'  He  lives — ^however  distant,  he  is  mine  1 ' 

And,  when  a  star  looks  out,  a  gladdening  ray 
Sc«m8  darting  from  his  eye  to  cheer  my  heart — 

All  thoughts  of  earthly  distance  melt  away, 
We  meet  in  heaven — and  never  more  to  part  I 

These  notices  of  verse- writers  who  had  no  association  with  any 
new  movement  in  imaginative  literature  may  suffice,  at  least,  to 
show  how  great  was  the  distance  existing  between  0chiller  and 
the  majority  of  his  cotemporaries. 

Our  attention  must  next  be  directed  to  the  more  fertile  depart- 
ment of  prose-fiction.  Here  we  find,  besides  a  few  didactic  stories 
by  Pestalozzi  (which  will  be  noticed  in  a  following  chapter),  the 
^  Idylls '  of  Fbanz  Xayer  Bronner  and  some  humorous  novels 
by  Ulrioh  Hegster,  who  described  scenes  from  life  in  Switzer- 
land. The  'Parables'  written  by  Friebrigh  Adolf  Erum^ 
MACHER  may  be  commended  for  their  style  as  well  as  for  their 
didactic  tendency.  • 

Other  works  in  prose-fiction  include — ^besides  mediocrities  too 
numerous  to  be  named — some  respectable  novels  and  romances 
written  by  ladies,  and  a  host  of  inferior  fictions  by  such  popular 
authors  as  Vulpius,  Spiess^  Cramer,  and  Lafontaine.  The  works 
of  these  four  writers  may,  on  the  whole,  be  fairly  classed  together 
as  representing  the  Low  Literature  of  their  times.  Before  noticing 
its  characteristics  we  may  name  two  or  three  ladies  who  wrote 
respectable  fiction.  Bensdictikb  Euobkie  Naitbert  (1766-1819) 
published  anonymously   several    stories,  including   ITtekia    rxm 


XXITI.]  E0MAKCE3.  367 

Thumf  an  historical  romance  from  which  Schiller  derived  eome 
eaggeations  for  his  Walienstem,  The  modesty  of  the  amiahle 
novelist  was  more  remarkable  than  her  knowledge  of  history. 
Until  a  short  time  before  her  death  she  kept  concealed  the  author^ 
ship  of  all  her  writings. 

Johanna  Schopenhaueb  (1766-1838),  the  author  of  the  ro- 
mances '  Gabriele '  and  *  The  Aunt/  and  of  an  interesting  book  on 

*  Johann  von  Ejck  and  his  Followers,'  lived  for  some  years  at 
Weimar.  Her  style,  like  her  character,  was  lively  and  superficial, 
and  her  novels  were  read  and  admired,  while  the  original  and 
powerful  writings  of  her  son^  Arthur,  were  generally  neglected. 
Ills  character  was  as  strongly  contrasted  with  her  own  as  are 
midnight  and  noon,  and  she  disliked  so  much  his  gloomy  theory 
of  human  life,  that  she  refused  to  dwell  in  the  same  house  with 
him.  'Your  lamentations,'  said  she,  'about  this  stupid  world 
and  the  miseries  of  mankind  deprive  me  of  rest  ac  night  and  give 
me  bad  dreams.'  Arthur  told  her  that  his  own  books  would  be 
read  when  her  novels  were  forgotten,  and  the  prediction  has  been 
fulfilled. 

The  fault  of  prolixity  is  found  in  most  of  the  novels  written  by 
Eabolins  Pichler  (1769-1843;,  but  in  their  moral  tendencies 
they  were  well  contrasted  with  many  fictions  too  popular  in  her 
times.  Her  best  work,  '  Agathocles '  (1808),  was  written  in  oppo- 
sition to  Gibbon's  misrepresentations  of  Christianity.  In  several 
of  her  romances  she  endeavoured  to  give  a  popular  interest  to  some 
passages  in  the  history  of  her  native  land. 

Another  lady  who  wrote  respectable  prose-fiction  was  Kabolinb 
VON  Wolzoqen  (1763-1847),  the  friend  and  sister-in-law  of 
Schiller,  whose  biography  she  wrote.  This  interesting  work  is 
more  valuable  than  her  romances,  '  Agnes  von  Lilien '  (1708)  and 

*  Cordelia  *  (1840) ;  though  the  former  had  a  remarkable  and 
deserved  success.  This  lady  waa  the  latest  survivor  of  all  the 
circle  of  Schiller's  literary  friends  at  Weimar. 

These  notices  of  female  writers  may  be  closed  by  naming 
Therese  Hubbr  (1764-1829),  daughter  of  the  philologer  Heyne. 
Iler  novels  were,  at  one  time,  erroneously  ascribed  to  her  second 
husband,  Ludwig  Ferdinand  Huber.  She  wrote  especially  for 
women,  and  one  of  her  leading  motives  was  to  show  the  happiness 
of— celibacy. 

If  any  apology  were  wanted  for  notidng  the  fictions  we  include 


358  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUllE.  [Ch. 

under  the  heading  Low  Literature^  it  might  be  found  in  one  of 
two  humorous  epistles  written  in  verae  hj  Goethe  and  addressed 
to  the  father  of  a  family.  The  anxious  parent  complains — not 
without  good  reasons — of  the  character  of  such  popular  literature 
ns  the  circulating  libraries^  in  his  time,  supplied.  Goethe,  in 
reply,  states  his  belief,  that  the  demand  produces  the  supply  in 
the  class  of  fictions  to  which  the  letter  refers.  In  other  words, 
he  asserts,  that  the  character  of  the  people  impresses  itself  on 
their  favourite  literature  j  which  is  not  the  cause,  but  the  con- 
sequence of  a  depraved  taste.  To  illustrate  this  doctrine,  he 
invents  a  humorous  story  of  an  improvisatore  at  Venice,  who 
gained  popularity  by  telling  a  story  of  his  adventures  in  Utopia. 
There,  he  asserted,  he  had  been  severely  and  justly  punished  for 
wishing  to  pay  his  debts  and  to  work  for  his  own  maintenance. 
The  people,  says  Goethe,  listened  with  delight  to  a  romance  which 
expressed  so  clearly  their  own  notion  of  a  happy  life.  If  we 
accept  this  theory  of  literary  success,  tbe  sensatiunal  romances  and 
sentimental  novels  that  gave  delight  to  numerous  readers  during 
a  long  period  must  deserve  attention,  when  we  would  describe 
literature  as  expressing  the  character  of  a  people.  A  popular 
seiies  of  extravagant  robber-romances  and  ghost-stories  may  first 
be  noticed. 

Goethe  and  Schiller,  b/ their  earliest  dramas,  called'into  activity 
the  imitative  talents  of  the  men  who  wrote  absurd  tales  of  knights 
and  bandits,  and,  rather  later,  the  *  Ghost-Seer '  (1786-89),  an  un- 
finished romance  by  Schiller,  was  accepted  as  a  new  model  for 
imitators ;  though  it  was  very  unfavourably  characterised  by  its 
author.  Then  '  shrieks  heard  in  uninhabited  castles '  and  '  noises 
of  chains  ditigged  about  at  midnight  through  long  and  mysterious 
corridors '  were  freely  employed  as  materials  in  unearthly  fiction. 
But,  on  the  whole,  the  robbers  had  a  greater  success  than  their 
spectral  rivals.  Schiller  was  not  allowed  to  forget  the  extrava- 
gance of  his  own  first  play.  When  he  came  to  Weimar  in  1787, 
one  of  his  first  visitors  was  a  literary  man,  described  as  an  insig- 
nificant figure  and  oddly  dressed.  This  young  man  was  afteinivards 
celebrated  as  Chkistiak  August  Vulpius,  author  of  'Riaaldo 
Biniddini  the  Robber,'  one  of  the  most  successful  sensational 
romances  ever  written,  and  a  fair  type  of  a  numerous  class  of 
umilar  prodactloRS.    It  appeared  first  in  1797;  and  its  great  popa- 


XXni.]  'EINALDO  EINALDINL'  359 

laritj  is  proved  by  the  facts  that  it  was  translated  into  several 
languages,  and  that  a  new  edition  in  Qerman  appeared  in  1858. 

^  Rinaldo  Rinaldini '  might  be  called,  with  reference  to  popu- 
larity^ the  chieftain  of  a  formidable  gang  of  robber-romances  com- 
piled for  the  circulating  libraries.  But  another  hero — ^the  re- 
nowned great  bandit '  Aballino ' — claims  precedence  in  the  order 
of  time.  To  readers  who  know  Hsinrich  Zsghokke  (1771-1848) 
as  the  writer  of  'Hours  of  Devotion'  and  of  numerous  didactic 
stories  and  historical  works^  it  may  seem  strange  that  his  name 
should  be  mentioned  here;  but  his  celebrated  robbex^romance, 
*  Aballino  the  Great  Bandit/  was  written  as  early  as  1798  (six  years 
before  Schiller*s  WaUenstem  was  completed),  and  was^  soon  after- 
wards, put  into  the  form  of  a  play  which  had  great  success. 
Spiess,  another  writer  of  sensational  dramas  and  romances,  may  be 
mentioned,  bnt  merely  with  reference  to  his  remarkable  popularity. 

'Aballino'  and  'Rinaldo  Rinaldini'  were  both  respectable 
when  compared  with  some  of  the  romances  written  by  Cbaheb 
and  Lafontaine  ;  especially  some  stories  of  domestic  life  by  the 
latter,  who  wrote  more  than  one  hundred  and  thirty  volumes  of 
unwholesome  fiction^  made  worse  by  the  insertion  of  false  moral 
reflections.  He  was  followed,  at  a  later  time,  by  Heite?,  who  used 
the  pseudonyme  Clauren,  and  ruled  in  the  circulating  libraries  as 
Kotzebue  ruled  on  the  stage.  The  Low  Literature  represented 
by  these  names,  and  including  a  host  of  bad  romances  aud  play's, 
enjoyed  an  extensive  popularity  during  Schiller's  time,  and  sur- 
vived for  several  years  after  the  War  of  Liberation.  If  we  could 
be  deceived  by  the  prominence  given  in  literary  hbtory  to  such 
names  as  Lessing,  Herder,  Qoethe,  Schiller,  and  Fichte,  or  could 
suppose  that  they  expressed  the  mind  of  a  nation,  the  question 
might  arise :  How  could  a  people  represented  by  such  men  fall 
into  the  political  degradation  in  which  Germany  was  found  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century  ?  There  existed,  in  fact,  no  such 
contrast  as  such  a  question  would  imply  between  the  intellectual 
and  the  political  condition  of  the  people.  The  taste  and,  to  some 
extent,  the  moral  character  of  the  majority  of  readers  were  repre- 
sented by  such  writers  as  Vulpius,  Spiess,  Cramer,  Lafontaine, 
Kotzebue,  and  Clauren,  whose  fictions  enjoyed  a  popularity  ex- 
tended over  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century. 

J  ASS  J  (the  patriotic  founder  of  the  Gymnastic  Unions,  that  have 


360  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  LCh. 

been  so  fruitful  in  good  results)  gives,  in  a  few  plain  words,  a 
condensed  inyentorj  of  many  circulating  libraries.  'Here  we 
have/  says  he,  '  romances  with  titles  like  mountebanks*  placards ; 
"  Wonderful  Stories ! ''  (amazing,  indeed,  that  men  could  be  found 
BO  senseless  as  to  write  them) ;  '^  Qhost  Stories  I "  (where  such 
goblins  make  their  appearance  no  mind  exists) ;  **  Botaances  of 
Knighthood  "  (I  wish  "  the  iron  hand  of  Gotz  "  might  fall  on  their 
authors  I) ; ''  Robber  Romances ''  (in  old  times  robbers  took  away 
men's  goods  or,  sometimes,  their  lives ;  now  they  would  deprive 
us  of  our  brains) ;  and  then  we  have  Foison-Books  '  .  .  .  .  The 
more  energetic  part  of  Jahn's  denunciation  may  be  left  untrans- 
lutedy  but  not  because  it  is  too  severe. 

The  popular  drama  of  Schiller's  times  may  be  lastly  noticed,  as 
it  is  historically  connected  with  the  movement  in  literature  of 
which  some  account  must  be  given  in  the  next  chapter.  In  the 
genial  time  when  Goethe  and  Herder  were  friends  at  Strassburg, 
literary  men  were  divided,  as  we  have  seen,  into  two  parties,  who 
might  be  called  the  old  school  and  the  new.  Another  division 
took  place  a  short  time  before  Schiller's  death.  Several  young 
writers,  led  by  the  brothers  Schlegel,  and  associated  under  the 
title  of  the  '  Romantic  School/  made  themselves  prominent  by 
their  opposition  to  the  tendencies  of  popular  literature  in  their 
time.  They  had  other  and  higher  motives,  which  may  be  men- 
tioned in  our  next  chapter ;  but  here  it  is  enough  to  say  that  they 
were  reasonably  dissatisfied  with  such  dramas  as  were  written  by 
Iffland  and  Kotzebue,  and  with  the  romances  of  Lafoutaine  and 
Clauren.  On  the  whole,  this  literature  might  fairly  be  called 
low ;  there  was  in  it  no  breath  of  aspiration  towards  any  higher 
thoughts  than  such  as  would  have  been  sanctioned  by  Nicolai,  the 
champion  of  commonplace,  whose  name  may  be  once  more  men- 
tioned^ ae  serving  to  represent  briefly,  the  characteristics  of  a 
crowd  of  writers  of  plays,  novels,  and  romances. 

Among  the  dramatists  here  referred  to  the  most  respectable 
was  Attchjst  Wilhelm  Iffland  (1769-1814).  He  was  an 
excellent  actor  in  comedy  and  in  such  domestic  plays  as  he 
could  write.  In  1796  he  was  appointed  director  of  the  National 
Theatre  at  Berlin,  where  he  remtuned  until  the  close  of  his  life. 
His  dramas,  founded  on  domestic  interests,  though  prosaic,  have 
good  moral  motives,  and  contain  passages  of  natural  and  powerful 


XXin.]  KOTZEBTJB.  361 

pathoB ;  but,  in  all  tlieir  edsential  features,  they  haTe  a  close  family- 
likenees  one  to  another.  They  conAist  mostly  of  scenes  from  every- 
day life;  suchL  as  might  be  found  in  the  lowliest  of  Crabbe's 
domestic  stories.  Iffland's  boundaries  of  thought  and  sympathy 
were  narrow ;  but  he  was  respected  in  his  day,  as  he  wrote  better 
plays  than  'robber-tragedies/  and  brought  upon  the  stage  such 
men  and  women  as  may  be  seen  in  daily  life.  One  of  his  best 
pieces — Die  Jager — enjoyed  remarkable  popularity.  As  fair  spe- 
cimens of  the  whole  family  group,  we  may  mention  '  The  Old 
Bachelors/  '  The  Advocates/  and  '  The  Legacy.'  In  his  moral 
tendency  Iffland  was  too  respectable  to  be  classified  with  his  more 
versatile  coteroporary  Kotzebue— a  play-writer  as  remarkable  for 
tact  and  cleverness  as  for  the  absence  of  any  higher  qualities. 

August  Frisdrich  Fbbdinanb  (von)  Kotzbbus  was  bom  at 
Weimar  in  1761,  held,  in  the  course  of -his  life,  several  political 
offices  in  Russia  and  Germany,  and  gained  a  wide  reputation,  by 
no  means  founded  on  respect  for  his  character.  He  was  intensely 
unpatriotic,  and  might  be  concisely  described  as  the  extreme  op- 
posite to  Schiller.  Kotzebue  was  a  thoroughly  practical  man, 
and  wrote  for  the  market  SchiUer  had  tried  to  mn^~e  a  school  of 
the  theatre  \  but  Kotzebue  viewed  it  as  a  shop  in  which  be  could 
carry  on  an  extensive  ti*ade.  The  same  motive  guided  him  in 
politics.  The  cynical  invectives  published  in  the  paper  he  edited 
were  directed  against  men  whose  motives  were  more  generous 
than  his  own,  and  he  found  delight  and  profit  in  writing  to  dis- 
courage the  hopes  entertained  by  liberal  politicians.  This  conduct 
and  the  suspicion  that  he  was  acting  as  a  Russian  spy  roused 
to  a  state  of  fanaticism  a  young  student  (Karl  Ludwig  Sand),  by 
whom  Kotzebue  was  assassinated  at  Mannheim  in  1810. 

It  must  be  granted  that  he  possessed  one  virtue — industry. 
He  wrote,  beside  several  romances  and  a  deplorable  history  of 
Germany,  a  host  of  plays,  comedies  and  farces,  by  which  he  gained 
a  European  reputation.  His  play  ^  The  Indians  in  England '  had 
a  success  that  now  seems  incredible,  and  his  '  Old  Coachman  of 
Peter  III.'  gained  for  its  author  the  patronage  of  the  Czar  Paul  I. 
of  Russia.  If  Kotzebue's  dramas  had  been  written  to  make 
Schiller's  theory  of  '  an  educational  theatre '  appear  ridiculous,  it 
could  not  have  been  done  more  effectively.  Critics  wrote  severely 
of  such  plays  as  ^  Brother  Moriz ; '  but  the  unscrupulous  author 


862  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Oh. 

had  an  applauding  public  on  lib  side.  He  had  good  tact  in  making 
arrangements  for  stage-effects — especially  in  farces-  and  comedies 
— and  some  of  his  tragedies  are  highly  sensational.  His  farces  are 
pardonable,  or  may  be  praised  when  compared  with  some  of  his 
sentimental  or  falsely-pathetic  pieces ;  especially  such  as  end  with 
repentance  and  couTersion.  In  these  his  aims  and  the  means 
which  he  used  to  attain  them  are  alike  contemptible.  One  of  his 
most  successful  plays — '  Misanthropy  and  Repentance' — is  also  one 
of  the  worst  in  its  moral  tendency.  This  frivolous  exhibition  of  a 
sudden,  so-called  '  repentance  '  as  a  means  of  making  an  effective 
closing  scene  to  a  base  career  is  one  of  the  writer*s  greatest 
offences.  A  few  crocodile  tears  are  shed,  and  are  made  effectual  to 
cancel,  in  a  moment,  all  remembrance  of  transgression. 

It  is  not  intended  to  be  said  that  Kotzebue,  who  ruled  so  long 
in  the  theatre,  gained  and  maintained  his  popularity  merely  by 
pandering  to  the  depraved  taste  of  the  public.  Pieces  that  kept 
their  reputation  for  twenty  years  and  more  must  have  some  merits, 
such  as  lively  action,  a  fertile  invention  of  effective  situations,  and 
some  rather  clever  portraitures  of  the  lower  characteristics  of  men 
and  women.  These  traits  may  be  found  in  such  pieces  as  '  The 
Epigram,'  the  •Affinities,*  'Reconciliation,'  and  'The  Two  Klins- 
bergs.'  But  the  writer's  offences  against  good  taste  and  morals 
are  unpardonable.  In  several  of  his  plays  and  farces  he  makes 
age  an  object  of  ridicule.  One  of  his  '  amiable '  women  opeuly ' 
declares  her  gladness  when  she  finds  herself  a  widow,  and  this  is 
a  venial  offence  when  compared  with  the  bad  taste  that  may  be 
found  in  *  Brother  Moriz '  and  other  pieoes  that  may  be  left  un- 
named. One  high  eulogium  of  Kotzebue's  moral  tendency  appeared 
in  his  own  times;  but  it  was  written  by  himself: — '  There  is  more 
morality  in  my  plays,'  he  said,  '  than  can  be  found  in  the  thickest 
volume  of  sermons  ever  printed.' 

Kotzebue  was  profoundly  irreverent,  and  had  not  the  slightest 
•suspicion  that  he  was  in  any  respect  inferior  to  Gbethe,  whom  he 
seems  to  have  viewed  as  an  intruder  in  Weimar.  On  one  occa- 
sion, the  playwright  made  arrangements  for  a  showy  coronation  of 
Schiller  as  poet-laureate,  which  was  to  take  place  in  the  town- 
hall  at  Weimar ;  but  the  sole  object  of  the  scheme  was  to  give 
annoyance  to  Goethe.  It,  however,  gave  greater  annoyance  to 
Schiller,  who  declared  that  the  bare  suggestion  had  injured  his 


XXIII.]  KOTZEBUB.  36 


o 


health.  Kotzehue  respected  nobody.  One  of  his  farces  ('  The 
Visit')  was  intended  to  make  the  philosopher  Kant  appear 
ridiculous ;  another  (not  worth  naming)  was  directed  against 
Fichte ;  *  The  Incoguito '  was  a  satire  on  the  brothers  Schlegel, 
.  and  another  farce,  called  '  The  Hyperborean  Ass/  was  written  to 
expose  the  errors  of  the  Romantic  School,  who  had  ventured  to 
suggest  that  people  ought  not  to  be  satisfied  with  such  plays  as 
were  written  by  Kotzebae. 


864  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  IJTBRATURE.  [Ch. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

SEVENTH  PERIOD,    1770-1880. 

TES  BOMAimC  SCHOOIi. 

It  is  like  stepping  out  of  the  sunshine  of  an  open  £dld  into  the 
twilight  of  a  dense  forest  when  we  leave  the  society  of  Eant  and 
Schiller  and  enter  the  Romantic  School,  where  Schelling  teaches 
philosophy^  where  the  brothers  Schlegel  read  lectures  on  criticisnii 
and  Tieck  reyives  the  poetry  of  the  Middle  Ages.  How  great  the 
transition  from  Kant's  clear  moral  doctrine  to  Schelling's  theory 
of '  The  Soul  of  the  World ; '  or  from  '  Wilhelm  Tell '  to  Tieck's 
*  Genoveya ' ! 

A  severely  logical  or  rationalistic  reader  may  he  surprised  by 
thb  transition  from  works  in  prose  and  verse  that  may  be  easily 
understood,  to  writings  in  which  an  imaginative  mysticiiim  more 
or  less  prevails.  It  should,  however,  be  remembered,  that  the 
object  of  these  outlines  is  to  give  a  fair  representation  of  German 
Literature,  and  not  a  selection  of  passages  accordant  with  English 
taste.  Any  history  of  German  Poetry  that  would  leave  un- 
noticed, or  barely  mentioned,  the  extensive  department  occupied 
by  mystical  and  fantastic  fictions  would  be  defective  and  false. 

It  is  with  deference  to  the  judgment  of  several  German  his- 
torians of  literature  that  we  have  included  the  sixty  years  1 770- 
1830  in  one  period.  The  beginning  of  the  nineteenth  century  was 
an  epoch  in  literature  and  philosophy,  and  was  marked  by  ten- 
dencies and  innovations  as  important  as  any  that  we  have  noticed 
in  the  eighteenth  century. 

In  the  years  1725-1770,  there  was  a  general  t^ndencyTo  make 
all  speculation,  philosophy,  religion,  and  poetry  serve  immediately 
the  interests  of  morality  and  practical  life.  If  that  tendency,  as 
promoted  by  Kant's  doctrine  of  ethics,  and  as  shown  in  the 


XXIV.]  THE  ROMANTIC  SCHOOL.  3G5 

writings  of  such  men  as  Moser,  Engel,  and  Garve,  had  been  con- 
tinued, the  Romantic  School  of  poetry  would  never  have  arisen. 
An  English  tone  of  sobriety  and  clearness' is  prevalent  in  the 
essays  and  other  writings  of  the  popular  philosophers  and  their 
cotemporaries,  and  if  their  style  of  writing  bad  been  followed; 
we  should  have  heard  nothing  of  German  obscurity. 

About  the  time  of  Schiller's  death  (or  rather  before),  both 
literature  and  philosophy  seemed  to  be  weary  of  their  old  topics 
and  desirous  of  enlarging  their  boundaries,  especially  such  as  had 
been  defined  by  Kant  Men  would  seek  to  know  what,  as  he  had 
said,  could  not  be  known. 

It  must  appear  strange  to  an  English  reader  to  learn  that  the 
prevalence  of  a  system  of  philosophy  was  closely  connected  with 
a  certain  class  of  tendencies  in  the  treatment  of  historical,  political^ 
and  religious  questions,  and  also  in  the  culture  of  imaginative 
literature ;  yet  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact  It  is  clear  that 
the  abstract-ideal  character  and  the  didactic  tone  of  some  of 
Schiller's  poems' on  art  and  culture  may  be  ascribed  to  a  study  of 
Kant's  writings  and  to  the  poet's  respect  for  the  judgment  of  his 
friend,  Wilhelm  von  Humboldt,  who  held  a  theory  in  favour  of 
the  union  of  poetry  with  philosophy.  This  union,  he  said,  must 
be  the  centre  of  all  culture  and  the  source  of  inspiration'forall  the 
special  sciences.  The  assertion  seems  a  bold  one  in  prose ;  but 
Wordsworth  has  said  the  same  thing  in  verse. 

As  long  as  Kant's  philosophy  was  accepted  as  final,  it  might 
lead  to  abstruseness,  but  hardly  to  what  we  may,  without  offence, 
call  mysticism.  This  was  avoided  by  refusing  to  attack  the 
problems  that  lead  to  it  'Of  what  nature  may  be- in  itself,'  said 
Kant, '  we  can  know  notlyng.  We  see  only  phenomena,  and  these 
are  beheld  through  a  certain  medium— our  own  mind.  The  world 
around  us  supplies  the  objects  we  contemplate,  but  they  are  like 
the  bits  of  glass  in  a  kaleidoscope.  Our  own  faculties  are  the 
slides  by  which  the  fragments  are  arranged  in  various  designs.* 
Kant  thus  left  a  division  between  the  intellect  and  the  con- 
science, and  drew  lines  of  close  limitation  around  metaphysics. 
He  taught  that,  as  all  our  knowledge  is  derived  from  experience, 
and  our  experience  is  finite,  we  can  know,  by  theoretic  reasoning, 
nothing  of  the  infinite.  But  he  also  taught  that '  the  truths  which 
never  can  be  proved '  by  the  intellect  may  be  found  implied  and 
asserted  in  ethics. 


866  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

Ficbte,  like  hU  predecessor^  Had  mostlj  a  moral  aim  in  view, 
and  wrote  and  lectured  to  promote  a  union  of  the  highest  science 
with  political  and  practical  life;  but  he  protested  against  the 
toleration  of  duality  in  a  system  of  philosophy,  and  demanded 
that  all  its  parts  should  proceed  from  one  centre^  and  be  indis- 
soluhly  united  as  one  organism. 

This  severe  demand  led  to  the  speculations  of  Schelling  and  to 
Hegel's  laborious  dialectic  method. 

Philosophy,  as  understood  by  Fichte,  Schelling,  and  Hegel,  has 
for  its  substance  the  results  of  all  the  special  sciences  and  en- 
deavours to  find  their  union,  or  to  reduce  them  to  a  general  theory. 
It,  therefore,  does  not  confine  itself  to  abstract  metaphysics,  or  to 
a  few  questions  of  psychology ;  but  interferes  in  the  several  de- 
partments of  the  physical  sciences,  history,  ethics,  politics,  religion, 
and  aesthetics. 

We  say  nothing  of  the  wisdom,  or  of  the  hopelessness,  of  such  a 
comprehensive  endeavour  to  grasp  in  their  own  union  all  the 
results  of  knowledge  j  our  object  is  OQly  to  show  that  a  philosophy 
such  as  we  describe  must,  if  accepted,  produce  effects  on  the  ten- 
dencies of  general  literature. 

In  the  first  eight  or  ten  years  of  the  present  century,  the  bold 
and  imaginative  theory  of  Schelling  was  closely — ^though  in- 
.  directly— connected  with  the'  tendencies  of  several  writers  who 
were  included  under  the  general  heading  of  the  Romantic  School. 
This  title  had,  at  least^  two  meanings;  a  wide  and  a  narrow 
one.  If  the  latter  only  were  accepted,  as  including  the  brothers 
Schlegel  and  their  fiiends  who  wrote. fantastic  romances,  the  im- 
portance of  the  new  school  would  hardly  be  imderstood ;  but,  in 
its  wider  meaning,  it  includes  a  number  of  writers  on  history, 
politics,  religion,  philology,  and  archssllogy.  The  tendencies  in 
literature,  politics,  and  religion  of  all  the  men  who  have  been  in- 
cluded under  the  name  of  the  Romantic  School  were  by  no  means 
derived  from  the  brothers  Schlegel.  These  two  critics  made 
themselves  very  prominent  in  the  defence  of  theories  and  senti- 
ments that  were  called  ^  Medisval '  or  '  Romantic ; '  but  such  men 
as  Baader  and  Qorres,  Adam  MiiUer  and  Ludwig  yon  Haller, 
Steffens  and  Schubert,  must  not  be  described  as  followers  of  the 
Schlegels. 

The  fact  is,  that  the  title  Romantic  School  has  been  used 
by  some  writers  bo  aa  to  include  at  least  five  or  aix  distinct  mean- 


XXIV.]  NEW  TENDENCIES.  867 

ings.  In  tbe  first  place^  it  includes  (in  its  most  restricted  sense) 
the  Sclilegels  and  their  poetical  friends,  Tieck,  Novalis,  and  Wack- 
enroder.  Then  followed  several  imaginative  writers  known,  in 
literary  history,  as  the  '  Later  Romantic  School/  which  includes 
he  names  of  Fouqu^,  Brentano,  Amim,  and  EichendorfF.  To  this 
latter  group  the  name  of  Hoffmann  has  been  added.  Again  the 
writers  of  patriotic  songs,  before  and  during  the  War  of  Liberation, 
are  associated,  by  their  romantic  tendency,  with  the  authors  of 
some  dismal  dramas  known  as  'fate-tragedies,'  which  were  written 
during  the  time  when  a  romantic  literature  prevailed. . 

In  its  widest  acceptation  the  title  '  romantic '  is  so  vague  as  to 
be  useless.  It  includes,  for  examploi  such  a  writer  as  Baadeii 
whose  mystic  works  are  in  favour  of  a  moderated  Catholicism^  and 
Steffens,  who  endeavoured  to  unite  philosophy  with  Luthenn  doc- 
trine. Then  we  find  classed  with  the  men  of  the  Romantic  School 
several  writers  on  German  philology  and  archteology,  studies 
which  were  greatly  encouraged  by  the  tendencies  of  the  times, 
and  were  represented  by  the  brothers  Grimm  and  other  able  men, 
including  Hagen  and  Lachmann.  Their  nationality  is,  indeed, 
almost  the  only  bond  that  unites  all  the  writers  we  have  named, 
as  belonging  to  one  school.  Several  might  be  more  distinctly  clafr- 
sified,  either  as  having  tendencies  in  favour  of  Mediaeval  Catholi- 
cism, or  as  having  become  converts  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 
These  might  be  called  the  retrogressive  men  of  their  times.  A 
vague  and  imaginative  tendency  towards  Catholicism  was  one  of 
the  more  important  traits  in  the  literature  now  to  be  noticed.  In 
the  German  literature  of  the  eighteenth  century,  tbe  controversy 
between  authority  and  freedom  in  religion  was  mostiy  set  aside  or 
regarded  as  concluded.  The  writings  of  '  the  popular  philosophers ' 
show  this  clearly  enough.  Li  the  nineteenth  century  the  question 
has  been  revived,  and  has  led  to  a  discussion  calling  forth,  from 
each  of  the  parties  engaged  in  it,  abundant  resources  of  historical 
learning  and  controversial  powers. 

It  is  of  the  Romantic  School,  in  the  more  limited  acceptation 
of  the  name,  that  some  account  must  next  be  given. 

In  the  first  decennium  of  the  present  century,  Jena, '  the  Athens 
on  the  Saale '  (as  it  was  sometimes  called),  was  the  centre  of  a  new 
movement  in  literature  and  philosophy,  which  took  place  during  a 
time  of  national  degradation. 

Tn  the  couxie  of  the  thirty  years  already  reviewed  (1770-1800) 


868  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAK  LITERATUBE.  [Oh 

literature  had  received  its  new  impulses^  first,  from  Eonigsberg, 
where  Kant,  Hamann,  Hippel^  and  Herder  resided;  then  from 
Strassburg,  in  the  days  when  Herder  and  Goethe  met  there,  and,' 
next,  from  Weimar  (1 775-1800) ;  bat  about  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  Weimar,  though  still  famous  as  the  residence 
of  Wieland,  Herder,  Goethe,  and  Schiller,  was  surpassed  in  intel- 
lectual activity  and  innovation  by  its  neighbour,  the  seat  of  learning 
on  the  Saale.  The  University  which,  before  the  time  of  Schiller*s 
appointment  there,  had  been  (as  we  have  noticed)  notorious  for  the 
rudeness  of  the  students,  had  been  greatly  improved  by  the  liberal 
measures  of  Earl  August  and  his  minister  Gx)ethe,  and,  during 
SchiUer^B  lifetime,  literature  was  represented  at  Jena  by  such  men 
as  the  brothers  Schlegel,  Tieck,  and  Novalis,  and  philosophy  by 
Beinhold,  Fichte,  Wilhelra  Humboldt,  Schelling,  Stefiens,  and 
Hegel. 

Literary  society  lost  dignity,  but  gained  energy  and  freedom, 
when  Jena  was  made  the  centre.  The  meetings  of  poetical  and 
philosophical  men  which  took  place  here  (in  the  elder  Schlegers 
house)  were  genial,  and  included  some  amusing  contrasts  of 
character.  There  might  be  seen  Fichte — a  short,  sturdy  figure, 
with  hair  flowing  on  his'  shoulders — speaking  imperiously, '  but 
often  in  urgent  need  of  a  louis  d*or '  (says  Scherr),  and  sometimes 
dressed  'not  better  than  a  rag-picker.*  No  sharper  contrast  could 
be  seen  than  when  this  philosopher  seated  himself  beside  Wolt- 
mann,  the  historian,  who  was  almost  a  dandy,  and  wore  a  claret- 
coloured  coat,  with  a  blue  satin  vest  and  spotless  snowy  linen. 
Li  rather  later  years  some  romantic  youths,  in  their  endeavour 
^  to  blend  life  with  poetry,'  resolved  to  abjure  thj  use  of  tobacco; 
but  this  grand  design  was  not  realised  at  the  time  of  which  we 
write.  Then,  on  the  contrary,  one  of  the  cares  of  Wilhelm  von 
Humboldt,  while  he  stayed  at  Jena,  was  to  preserve  his  best  suit 
from  the  taint  of  that  obnoxious  herb.  For  this  purpose  (we 
are  told)  he  generally  wore,  when  he  went  to  spend  an  evening 
with  philosophers,  an  old  and  rusty  coat '  which  a  barber  would 
scorn  to  put  on  his  back.'  Among  the  poetical  men  and  the 
philosophers  who  were  assembled  at  Jena,  there  sometimes  ap- 
peared a  young  man  with  luminous  eyes,  a  round  head,  and  a 
projecting  brow.  This  was  Schelling,  who  had  recently  pub- 
lished several  essays  containing  the  outlines  of  a  new  philo- 
sophy of  nature.    Whatever  might  be  its  intrinsic  value,  it  had 


XXIV.]  JENA.  869 

remarkable  power  as  a  stimulant  in  seyeral  departments  of  study, 
changed  the  tone  of  controversy  on  some  religious  questions,  and 
indirectly  favoured  the  more  important  tendencies  of  a  new  school 
of  poetry. 

It  may  be  asserted — ^but  without  any  attempt  to  write  pre- 
cisely— that  each  of  the  systems  of  German  philosophy  had  an 
ascendancy  of  about  ten  years.  Eant  ruled  in  1780-90,  and 
fichte  during  the  next  decennium ;  in  1800-10  Schelling*s 
theories  (or  intuitions)  were  predominant|  and  were  followed  by 
Solger's  teaching.  Hegel's  system  had  to  wait  long  before  it 
gained  (about  1820}  the  predominance  which  it  retained  until 
1830  and  later. 

It  was  about  the  time  (1799)  when  Fichte  left  Jena,  and  when 
Schelling  began  to  rule  there,  that  the  Romantic  School  became 
prominent  in  literature,  and  it  had  assumed  some  importance 
before  Schiller's  death  occurred. 

The  times  were  indeed  gloomy  when  the  enthusiastic  men  we 
have  mentioned  were  assembled  at  Jena,  and  endeavoured  to 
forget  political  degradation  while  they  dreamed  of  new  theories 
in  philosophy,  or  of  a  new  school  of  poetry  in  which  '  all  the 
picturesque  life  of  th'e  Middle  Ages  should  be  restored.' 

These  dreams  at  such  a  time  might  remind  us  of  the  men  who 
wrote  pastoral  fantasias  during  the  horrors  of  the  Thirty  Years' 
War,  or  of  the  amiable  '  unknown  philosopher,'  Saint-Martin, 
who,  during  the  French  Revolution,  occupied  himself  in  the  study 
of  Bohme's  theosophy;  ^ut  the  apparently  hopeless  state  of 
political  affairs  may  explain  a  retirement  and  quietism  that  was 
not  altogether  voluntary.  What  could  poets  or  philosophers  do 
at  such  a  time  P 

Prussia  was  dismembered,  and  the  spoliation  of  Oermany  was 
planned  at  Luneville;  then  followed  the  disaster  at  Austerlitz, 
and  events  were  moving  on  rapidly  towards  the  greater  cata- 
strophe at  Jena  in  1806. 

However  oppressive  the  conqueror's  rule  might  be,  thoughtful 
men  knew  well  that  ther6  was  stem  justice,  not  on  the  side  of 
the  enemy,  but  in  the  punishment  inflicted  on  Germany  for  its 
lodg  and  obstinate  policy  of  self-division.  'A  house  divided 
against  itself  cannot  stand,'  and  a  merely  militaiy  union,  even* 
though  animated  by  no  spirit  higher  than  a  national  or  a  personal 
egoism,  must  prevail  over  disorganisation. 

BB 


S70  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ck. 

There  was  no  trae  national  life  in  Germany.  This  was  too  well 
understood  by  intelligent  men.  A  disunion  represented  by  nume- 
rous and  envious  particular  interests  had  been  an  institution  in 
Germany  for  at  least  two  centuries,  and  how  could  its  disastrous 
results  be  remedied  in  a  lifetime  P 

The  French,  who  had  been  fighting,  in  1702,  to  extend  a  formal 
and  external  freyedom,  were  fighting  soon  afterwards  to  extend 
such  a  mechanical  and  Oiiental  despotism  as  had  hardly  been 
heard  of  since  the  time  of  Xerxes ;  but  they  had  a  union,  though 
one  of  the  least  durable  character,  and  they  were,  of  course,  for 
some  time  victorious  over  a  mere  aggregate  of  factions.  The 
'house  divided  against  itself  felL  It  was  in  accordance  with 
the  law  that  governs  the  world;  the  greatest  and  the  firmest 
union  must  win. 

Prussia  lost  half  its  territoiy ;  a  third  part  of  Germany  was 
reduced  to  a  state  of  vassalage ;  the  slavery  of  the  Ithembwid  was 
made  more  oppressive  than  ever,  and  the  great  minister,  VoM 
Stein,  who  had  in  his  mind,  and  at  his  heart,  grand  projects  for 
the  deliverance  of  the  nation  from  thraldom,  was  dismissed  from 
office. 

Napoleon  L,  in  1807,  ruled,  formally  or  virtually,,  over  all 
Europe,  excepting  England  and  Turkey.  His  despotism  was  as 
minute  and  petty  as  it  was  extensive.  Amid  all  his  plans  for  the 
final  degradation  of  Germany,  he  could  find  time  to  wage  warfare 
against  Madame  de  StaeL  Palm,  a  bookseller  at  Niimberg,  had 
in  his  shop  a  few  pamphlets  complainiag  of  the  Corsican  invasion 
(so  it  should  be  named,  we  think),  and,  though  he  had  not  sold 
a  copy,  he  was  shot  in  obedience  to  orders  received  directly  from 
the  emperor. 

'  I  suppose,'  said  Napoleon,  writing  to  his  agent,  '  yon  have 
arrested  the  booksellers  at  Augsburg  and  NUrnberg.  It  is  my 
will  tliat  they  should  be  tried  by  a  court-martial  and  shot,  and 
within  the  space  df  twenty-four  hours.' 

These  were  the  times  when  (if  we  might  believe  all  that  Falk 
tells  us)  Goethe  wept  with  indignation,  and  talked  of  wandering, 
as  a  ballad-singer,  about  the  land,  to  complain  of  the  wrongs 
endured  by  his  friend,  the  Grand-Duke  of  Saxe- Weimar. 

Such  political  circumstances  might,  at  first  sight,  condemn  the 
men  who  were  writing  poetry  or  dreaming  and  speculating  in 
1800-7 ;  but,  in  another  point  of  view^  the  despair  of  their  times 


XXIV.]  THE  TIMEa  871 

miglit  serve  as  an  apology  even  for  the  reveries  of  the  Homantic 
SchooL  They  might  well  look  back  to  past  ages  of  a  national 
existence  and  to  such  freedom  as  was  enjoyed  in  medissval  times ; 
for  the  present  condition  of  things  was  intolerable^  and  of  the 
future  there  seemed  to  be  no  hope. 

Freedom  was  nowhere  to  be  found,  save  in  abstract  thought, 
or  in  imaginative  literature,  and  into  these  ideal  regions  men 
retreated. 

Goethe,  after  Schiller's  death,  wrote,  to  beguile  care,  first  novels, 
and  then  his  autobiography.  Wilhelm  von  Humboldt  studied 
SBSthetics  and  philology,  while  he  waited  for  an  opportunity  of 
rendering  service  to  the  Steto.  His  brother  was  arranging  the 
results  of  extensive  explorations  in  tropical  lands.  Schelling 
endeavoured  ■  to  animate  with  a  new  spirit  the  study  of  nature. 
The  brothers  Schlegel  were  engaged  in  the  culture  of  'the  world's 
literature,'  and  called  attention  to  the  beauties  of  Spanish,  Old 
French,  and  Hindoo  poetry.  Their  friends  Novalis  and  Tieck 
were  dreaming  of  restoring  to  life  and  of  uniting  with  modem 
culture  the  poetry  and  romance  of  the  Hobenstaufen  period. 
Hegel,  who,  at  this  time,  had  attracted  the  notice  of  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  wad  dissatisfied  with  the  Sybilline  and  rhapsodical  char 
racter  of  his  friend  Schelling's  teaching,  and  was  laboriously 
*  planning  the  butlines  of  the  most  comprehensive  of  all  systems  of 
philosophy.  He  had  advanced  as  far  as  the  conclusion  of  his 
'  Phenomenology  of  the  Mind,'  when  the  thunders  of  the  French 
artillery  were  heard  at  Jena.  Deprived  of  such  scanty  means  of 
subsistence  as  Jena  had  afforded,  he  was  then  compelled  to  migrate 
to  Bamberg,  Vhere  he  found  employment  as  editor  of  '  The  Mer- 
cury,' 

Fnough  has  been  said  of  political  circumstances  to  explain  the 
fact  that,  the  men  associated  under  the  name  of  the  Komantic 
School  expressed — ^though  vaguely  and  under  a  disguise  of  fiction 
— ^the  national  spirit  that,  subsequently,  more  boldly'  asserted 
itself  in  the  war  of  liberation.  The  poetical  dreams  and  sesthetic 
theories  of  Tieck  and  the  brothers  Schlegel  were  followed  by  the 
patriotic  orations  of  Fichte  and  the  warnsongs  of  Moritz  Arndt 
and  Theodor  Komer.  This  sequence  alone  would  give  some  im- 
portance to  a  school  of  fiction  having  tendencies  that  were  medi* 
esval  but  also  national 

The  term  'romantic^'  as  used  .by  German  critics  and  literaiy 


872  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUEE.  [Ch. 

liistoriaiis,  is  generally  equivalent  to  mediesyal,  but  refers  more 
particularly  to  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuriesi  when  the 
imaginative  literature  of  the  German  people  was  partly  borrowed 
from  ProTen^al  poetry.  This  borrowed  literature  consisted  mostly, 
as  we  have  seen,  of  romances  founded  on  fantastic  or  extravagant 
adventures ;  hence  the  secondary  meaning  of  the  word  '  romantic/ 
as  commonly  used  by  English  writers.  But,  as  we  have  already 
noticed  (ante,  Chapter  V.),  the  term  is  used,  with  a  more  extensive 
meaning,  so  as  to  include  the  chief  characteristics  of  art,  poetry, 
and  religion  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  to  place  them  in  contrast 
with  classic-antique  art  and  literature. 

The  contrast  intended  to  be  expressed  by  the  words  clasdc  and 
romantic  is  found  not  only  in  sssthetics,  but  also  in  practical  life 
and  in  religion.  The  poetry  and  the  sculpture  of  ancient  Greece 
are  the  symbols  of  a  life  that,  long  ago,  ceased  to  exist,  except  in 
history.  The  shrines  of  the  Middle  Ages  are  not  yet  utterly 
deserted,  but  remain  as  symbols  of  a  religious  life  that  has  not 
yet  passed  away.  On  these  facts  August  Wilhelm  von  Schlegel 
based  an  argument  in  favour  of  his  own  mediasval  tendencies.  It 
may  be  read  in  the  book  commonly  ascribed  to  Madame  de  Stael. 
We' cannot,  he  says,  revive  antique  art  and  poetry;  it  is  foreign, 
and  can  give  rise  only  to  cold  imitations.  Mediasval  poetiy  is 
national,  and  belongs  to  our  own  soil,  to  our  own  history  and  our 
religion. 

The  eulogies  of  the  Middle  Ages  that  were  written  by  the  brothers 
Schlegel  and  their  friends  may  be  contrasted  with  the  popular 
mediaeval  literature  of  which  some  account  has  been  given  in 
these  outlines.  That  literature  must  not  be  altogether  accepted 
as  either  fair  or  complete  testimony  ;  it  was,  no  doubt,  one-sided. 
There  was  something  better  than  popular  satires  tell  of  in  the 
times  when  the  foundations  of  modem  civilisation  were  laid; 
when  such  grand  poems  in  stone  as  cathedrals,  abbeys,  and  in- 
numerable parish  churches  were  constructed,  and  when  the 
working-men  of  the  guilds  at  Niimberg  and  other  places  were 
accustomed  to  assemble  after  their  day's  labour,  and  to  find  solace 
in  competitive  versification  on  moral  and  religious  subjects. 
Tliere  existed  then  some  bonds  of  society  that  were  stronger  than 
gold. 

But  there  are  less  pleasing  parts  in  the  story  o^  those  ages,  and 
these  the  brothers  Schleipel,  Gorres,  and  other  writers  of  the 


XXrvr.J  MEDLEVAL  HISTOBY.  373 

medicBval  school  left  in  the  shade.  Thej  referred  to  the  pictu- 
resque times  of  the  Minnesingers.  Why  did  they  not  go  back  a 
little  farther — say  to  the  last  year  of  the  eleventh  century  ?  They 
would  then  have  encountered  among  all  the  '  romantic '  events  of 
the  Crusades  such  a  fact  as  the  Storming  of  Jerusalem.  Thus 
Von  Kaumer  concludes  his  narration  of  that  event : — 'No  dwelling- 
house  wad  spared :  grey-headed  men,  women,  domestic  servantSi 
and  children,  were  not  merely  slain^  but  barbarously  mocked  and 
tortured.  Some  were  compelled  to  leap  from  towers ;  others  were 
thrown  from  windows ;  children  were  torn  from  the  bosoms  of  their 
mothers,  and  dashed  against  the  walls.  .  •  .  Some  victims  wero 
burned  by  slow  fires ;  the  bodies  of  others  were  cut  open,  because 
it  was  suspected  that  they  had  swallowed  pieces  of  gold.  Of 
40,000  Saracens  (or,  as  Oriental  historians  write,  70,000),  there 
weire  not  left  enough  to  bury  the  dead.  The  meaner  classes  of 
pilgrims,  therefore,  assisted  in  the  work  of  burial ;  while  many 
piles  of  bodies  were  burned,  partly  to  prevent  the  infection  of  the 
air,  and*  partly  b^cau^e  there  was  a  hope  of  finding  gold  in  their 
ashes. 

'And  now  the  work  was  done;  and  the  host  of  pilgrims, 
fatigxted  with  massacre  and  pillage,  washed  themselves,  and 
marched  in  a  long  procession,  with  bare  ■  heads  and  feet,  and 
chanting  hymns  of  triumph,  to  the  Church  of  the  Resurrection. 
Here  they  were  received  by  the  clergy  with  great  solemnity,  and 
the  highest  homage  was  paid  to  Peter  the  Hermit,  who,  fifty  years 
before,  had  promised  aid  to  the  Christian  clergy  in  Jerusalem,  and 
thus  had  kept  his  word.' 

If  it  would  have  been  inconvenient  to  the  Schlegels  and  their 
friends  to  have  travelled  back  much  farther  than  to  the  Hohen- 
staufen  times,  to  find  the  ideal  Middle  Ages,  it  would  as  little 
have  served  t^e  Romantic  School  to  have  referred  to  numerous 
satires  expressing  the  dualism  of  religious  profession  and  practical 
life,  and  the  strife  of  classes  that  prevailed  in  the  period  1350- 
1526;  07  to  have  noticed  such  facts  as  'burnings  of  the  Jews  in 
all  the  towns  on  the  Rhine.' 

There  were  good  men  and  able  teachers  living  in  those  ages ; 
but  culture  was  mostly-  confined  to  a  few  castes,  religion  was 
mostly  an  external  institution,  and,  if  the  concurrent  testimony 
of  a  host  of  witnesses  is  to  be  accepted,  discontent  was  the  spirit 
of  the  times.    The  expression  will  hardly  seem  too  strong^  if  the 


374  OUTLINES  OF  GEIUttAN  UTEEATUEE.  [Ch. 

reader  has  made  himself  acquainted  with  the  outlines  of  such 
popular  literature  as  was  circuli^ted  from  the  decline  of  chivalry 
to  the  era  of  the  Reformation.  Many  writers  in  these  ages — at 
least,  many  of  those  who  wrote  popular  German  literature— could 
find  hardly  anything  to  praise,  or  on  which  they  could  dwell 
with  satisfaction.  Everything  they  saw  excited  their  serious 
displeasure  or  their  satirical  humour.  Brandt,  though  far  milder 
than  many  other  satirists,  thought  that  the  world  in  his  day  was 
ready  for  a  second  deluge.  Geiler,  the  popular  preacher  and  one 
of  the  best  men  of  the  period,  railed  from  the  pulpit  at  the  vices 
'  of  his  ago,  and  by  no  means  spared  either  the  aristocracy  or  the 
highest  authorities  in  the  Church.  It  is  more  than  probable  that 
the  compilers  of  such  books  as  '  Parson  Amis '  and  'The  Parson 
of  Kalenberg '  circulated  some  libels,  but  they  were  accepted  as 
truth  by  thousands.  Lastly,  Thomas  Mumer  appeared  as  an 
embodiment  of  satire — a  polemic  to  be  described  only  by  his  own 
pen. 

It  is  true,  there  were  some  contented  and  conciliatory  nf^n  who 
lived  in  these  times;  but  they  generally  found  rest  only  by 
turning  their  thoughts  away  from  this  world.  If  we  had  noticed 
the  Latin  literature  of  the  period,  we  might  have  found,  here  and 
therp,  pence  of  mind  in  the  cells  of  learned  schoolmen ;  but  it  was 
abstract  and  intellectual,  and  implied  a  forgetfuluess  of  the  world 
with  all  its  cares ;  by  no  means  a  real  victory  in  which  the-  laity 
mi<j:ht'have  a  share. 

This  dualism,  found  nearly  everywhere — between  the  Church 
and  the  State,  the  hierarchy  and  the  laity,  morality  and  sanctity; 
soul  and  body,  heaven  and  earth — was  reflected  in  poeti'y  and 
romance.  There  is,  after  all  that  has  been  said  in  pnuse  of 
'brave  and  gentle  knights,'  hardly  a  single  hero  of  mediaeval 
romance  who  is  as  manly,  self-mastering,  and  contented  as  the 
hero  of  the  '  Odyssey.'  The  latter,  it  is  true,  expresses  discontent 
when  ho  is  detained  a  prisoner  on  the  island  ruled  by  Calypso  ; 
but  he  is  neither  tired  of  the  world,  nor  longing  for  any  unearthly 
state  of  existence ;  he  reasonably  wishes  to  see  his  own  realm, 
Ithaca,  once  more,  and  he  is  contented  when  he  is  again  settled 
there. 

This  spirit  of  contentment  breathed  through  old  classic  poetry 
may  be  contrasted  with  the  vague  longing  of  '  Parzival '  in  his 
quest  of  the  mysterious  '  Oral/  or  with  many  of  the  lyrical  poems 


XXI  MEDMSVAL  POETRY.  875 

of  Waltlier  and  bis  cotemporaries.  Among  all  the  Minnesiogers 
who  wrote  on  any  seriouB  sabjects^  we  remember  only  one 
(Sonnenburg),  who  generally  expresses  himself  as  a  man  at  rest  in 
the  world  that  is  his  dwelling-place. 

It  was  the  unrest  and  discontent  of  meditative  minds  in  the 
Middle  Ages  that,  by  the  force  of  contrast,  gave  an  intense  charm 
to  the  most  perfect  of  all  the  subjects  represented  by  Medifeval- 
Cbrlstian  art — ^the  Madonna.  There  was  seen  perfect  love  in 
perfect  repose — an  absolute  union  of  divine  and  human  love.  No 
wonder  that  such  a  subject  was  so  often  repeated,  and  that  it  shed 
its  beautiful  light  over  so  many  churches,  chapels,  and  walls  of 
convents.  But  the  harmony  of  this  subject  was  unique;  nothing 
to  be  compared  with  it  is  found  in  mediaeval  poetry. 

.  The  want  of  artistic  unity  in  the  romances  of  chivalry ;  their 
endless  episodes  and  didactic  or  reflective  passages ;  such  traits  as 
are  found  in  Wolfram's  '  Parzival,*  where  the  author  inserts  auto- 
biographical scraps  and  passing  comments  on  his  own  eccentric 
style  ;-^l  these  were  so  many  expressions  of  a  discontent  and 
unrest  strongly  contrasted  with  the  general  tone  of  ancient  art  and 
poetry. 

The  contrast  has  been,  sometimes,  exaggerated  ;  for  neither  in 
history  nor  in  nature  are  the  lines  of  demarcation  drawn-  so 
strongly  as  in  theory.  There  are  classic  passages  to  be  found  in 
niedisBval  art;  but  these  exceptions  may  be  allowed  without 
denying  that  a  profound  difference  exists  between  antique  Grecian 
and  Mediaeval- Christian  poetry.  It  is  seen,  at  once,  if  we  compare 
the  most  natural  and  truthful  of  all  antique  poems — the  *  Odyssey ' 
— with  the  'Divina  Commedia,'  the  poetic  embodiment  of  the 
Middle  Ages. 

Union  is  the  prevailing  characteristic  of  the  '  Odyssey.*  Every 
adventure  in  the  story  is  connected  with  the  hero's  return  to 
Ithaca,  and  the  treatment  of  the  subject  is  throughout  epic.  In 
th6  'Divina  Commedia,'  dramatic,  epic,  and  lyric  elements  are 
mingled,  according  to  the  poet's  will  and  pleasure,  and  philosophy 
and  theology  are  called  in  to  aid-  the  poet  in  the  expression  of  his 
thoughts. 

The  author  of  the  '  Odyssey  *  was  contented  in  his  own  world  of 
poetry.  There  is  no  abstract  theology  and  no  philosophy,  to  be 
found  in  Homer.  He  wrote  no  allegories,  though  critics  after- 
wards treated  as  allegorical  some  of  his  stories.    Dante's  gr^at 


876  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN. LITERATURE.  [Ca. 

poem  ifl  certainly  not  to  be  called  an  allegoiy ;  but  its  meaning  is, 
nevertheless,  twofold.  Beatrice  is,  at  once,  a  saint  and  a  symbol 
of  theology,  and  several  distinct  departments  of  thought,  and  all 
the  forms  of  poetry,  are  blended  in  this  unique  poem. 

The  contentment  of  the  old  Qreek  poet  with  the  means  of 
expression  at  his  command  is  another  mark  by  which  he  is  dis- 
tinguished from  both  mediaeval  and  modern  writers.  He  never 
complains  that  he  cannot  find  words  to  tell  us  what  he  wishes  to 
say;  but  nature  and  the  language  of  the  senses  supply  all  the 
symbols  he  wants.  A  poet  can  hardly  recede  farther  from  the 
goal  of  art  than  when  he  confesses  that  he  is  unable  to  tell  us 
exactly  what  he  means.  Yet  this  confession  is  found,  not  only  in 
the  poetry  of  the  German  Romantic  School,  but  also  in  modem 
English  poems. 

This  defect  of  utterance  was  praised  by  the  romantic  writers. 
The  strangest  of  all  their  errors  was  a  contempt  of  artistic  forms.  • 
It  can  be  understood  how  imaginative  men  found,  here  and  there, 
in  'Parzival,'  'Titurel,'  and  other  romances  of  chivalry,  some 
half-expressed. ideas  more  sentimental  and  interesting  than  those 
found  in  antique  poetry ;  but  it  was  not  only  the  meaning  of  the 
romance  that  was  commended ;  its  want  of  definite  and  intelligible 
form  \^a8  described  as  the  expression  of  a  freedom  that  was  the 
soul  of  art!  How  this  notion  of  eesthetic  freedom  was  derived 
from  Ilchte's  philosophy,  the  romantic  writers  must  explain  for 
themselves.  Their  doctrine  of  an  arbitrary  rejection  of  all  the 
laws  of  form  was,  apparently,  supported  by  Schelling*s  essay  on 
Dante's  '  Divina  Commedia.'  The  critic  described  Dante  as  '  the 
high-priest  of  modem  art,'  and  spoke  of  his  great  poem  as  *  a 
prophecy  and  a  prefiguration  of  all  modern  poetry.' 

Accepting  these  assertions  as  true,  the  romantic  writers  ima- 
gined that  they  were  authorised  by  the  great  medieval  poet  to 
neglect  all  the  natural  distinctions  of  lyrical,  epic,  and  dramatic 
poetry,  and,  moreover,  to  confound  poetry  and  prose,  and  to 
mingle  imaginative  with  reflective  writing.  Errors  and  defects 
that  had  been  inevitable  in  old  times  were  recommended  by 
Friedrich  Schlegel's  criticism,  and  '  irony '  was  described  by  him 
as  a  substitute  for  art  The  mind  of  the  poet  or  the  artist,  we 
are  told,  can  find  in  the  external  world  nothing  better  than  a 
gross  parody  of  divine  ideas.  A  genius  must  therefore  make  his 
own  world  of  imagination,  and  must  govern  it  by  his  own  laws. 


k 


XXIV.]     THE  SCHLEGELS    AND  THEIB  FEIENBS.        377 

An  ironical  tone  (like  that  of  Socrates  when  talking  with  his  / 
inferiois)  is  the  grand  characteristic  of  a  genius,  with  regard  to/ 
any  materials  that  he  may  condescend  to  borrow  from  actual  life  J 
or  tlie  real  world.     This  is  SchlegePs  *  irony,'    Other  critics  have 
called  it  self-conceit.  t 

The  men  of  the  Earlier  Romantic  School  —  including  the 
brothers  Schlegel,  Wackenroder,  Tieck,  and  Novalis — ^had  three 
leading  notions,  which  they  expressed^  on  the  whole,  in  a  dreamy 
and  fantastic  style  in  their  imaginative  writings.  They  talked  of 
uniting  practical  life  with  art  and  poetry,  of  restoring  the  Catholi- 
cism of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  of  the  culture  of  a  '  romantic '  as 
opposed  to  a  classic  or  antique  school  of  poetry  and  art.  On  the 
whole,  it  may  be  briefly  asserted  that  their  more  important 
tendencies  were  mediaeval  and  retrogressive,  in  politics,  as  in 
religion  and  literature.  But  their  writings  are  by  no  means  fully 
described  by  such  general  statements  as  these^  which  must  bo 
accepted  as  only  prefatory  to  an  analysis. 

It  can  hardly  be  necessary  to  say  that  a  class  of  writers  having 
such  tendencies  as  hare  been  mentioned  must  have  excited 
controversy.  The  brothers  Schlegel,  who  were  the  chief  critics 
and  polemical  writers  of  the  school,  began  their  literary  careers 
by  attacking  not  only  the  low  literature  of  their  tipies  but  also  the 
rationalh«m  {Auflddrtmg)  to  which  we  have  already  so  often  referred. 
One  of  the  more  important  facts  in  the  history  of  German  litera- 
ture is  the  frequent  recurrence  of  a  contest  between  rationalism,  in 
one  form  or  another,  and  all  the  tendencies  that  may  (without  any 
implied  censure)  be  included  under  the  title  of  modern  mysticism. 
On  the  former  side,  we  have  clearness  and  simplicity  in  the  few 
tenets  maintained  as  founded  on  common  sense ;  '  but  the  clear- 
ness,' says  the  elder  Schlegel,  '  is  gained  mostly  by  an  arbitrary 
''  clearing-away ; '"  or  by  putting  out  of  sight  ideas  that  have 
guided  the  progress  of  mankind.  '  Aufkldrung  [^  clearing-up  '] 
is,'  says  Schlegel,  'nothing  more  than  Ahlddrtmg  [a  'clearing- 
away ']  of  everything  in  history,  in  nature,  or  in  man's  conscience 
that  cannot  be  very  readily  explained.'  Rationalism,  he  asserts, 
does  not  seek  for  truth  alone,  but  for  a  supposed  utility ;  it  makes 
a  clear  and  definite  uuderstanding  the  final  standard  of  truth,  and 
dismisses  as  unworthy  of  notice  all  traditions  and  religious 
sentiments  which,  though  described  as  destitute  of  any  basis  in 
reason,  have  exerted  a  powerful  influence  on  the  destinies  of 


878        Outlines  of  geeman  literatuek         [Ch. 

mankind.  In  accordance  with  Schlegel's  tendency^  to  assert  the 
claims  of  tradition,  of  sentiment,  and  of  imagination  against  the 
negations  of  rationalism,  Stefiens  (another  writer  associated  with 
the  Romantic  School)  used  an  argument  that  may  be  mentioned 
here:  'How,'  said  he,  'can  all  the  intuitions  implied  in  the 
highest  poetry  of  all  ages  be  described  as  destitute  of  any  true 
basisP' 

Stefiens,  most  probably,  borrowed  that  thought  from  Joseph 
TON  Schellhtg,  whose  writings  are  noticed  here  only  with  regard 
to  their  influence  on  general  literature.  One  fair  example  of 
his  attacks  on  rationalism  is  found  in  an  essay  written  in  1806,  in 
which  he  replies  to  the  accusation  of  Schwdifnereij  which  had 
been  prefeired  against  him  and  his  friends.  The  foreign  word 
Schwdrmerei  would  not  be  used  here  if  a  true  equivalent  could  be 
found  in  English  to  express  at  once  the  two  notions  of  fiBmaticism 
and  proselytism.  Schelling  clearly  explains  the  sense  in  which 
he  uses  the  word : — '  The  blindest  of  all  fanatics,'  says  he, '  are 
those  whose  seal  is  purely  negative.  All  that  is  truly  positive 
occupies  the  mind  and  gives  satisfaction ;  but  men  whose  zeal  is 
destructive  find  a  vacancy  in  their  own  minds,  and,  therefore, 
must  seek  beyond  themselves  for  objects  on  which  they  can 
employ  their  powers.  Thus  certain  zealots  for  enlightenment 
may  be  described.  What  do  they  wantP  ....  Qenerally 
speaking,  nothing  positive;  they  would  only  dear  away  [or 
destroy]  all  such  things  as  religious  superstition,  with  its  monas- 
teries and  its  images  of  saints.  But  what  follows  when  the 
convents,  with  all  their  absurdities,  have  been  put  out  of  the  way 
and  have  disappeared P  The  ''enlightened'*  will  then  be  left 
standing  idle,  and  there  will  remain  nothing'better  for  them  than 
that  some  detachment  from  their  company  should  sacrifice  itself 
for  the  good  of  the  whole.  Let  them  turn  themselves  into  monks 
or  saints,  or  something  of  that  kind,  so  that  there  may  be  left  for 
their  friends  something  still  to  be  destro3red.' 

Schelling  then  goes  on,  rather  vaguely,  to  confound  extreme 
rationalists  with  iconoclasts  and  leaders  of  the  peasantry  in  the 
sixteenth  century.  He  then  more  tairly  describes  the  arguments 
of  hist)pponents  as  based  on  an  exaggeration  of  some  commonly 
accepted  principles.  'Who  would  not,'  he  says,  'honour  the 
modest  self-limitation  of  an  honest  mind  that  finds  in  itself  no 
calling  to  attempt  any  systematic  study  of  things,  but  resta 


XXIV.]  SCHELLINa.  879 

quietly  in  its  own  moral  convictions — such  convictions  v  that 
the  man  who  acts  righteously  has  the  Divine  approbation ;  that 
the  essence  of  all  religions  is  included  in  morality,  and  that  a 
plain,  practical  man  may  leave  further  study  uncared  for  P 

'  Bat  a  man  now  comes  forward  with  the  reputation  of  a  philo- 
sopher ;  a  man  distinct  from  and  superior  to  the  common  people 
to  whom  he  preaches  their  own  doctrine,  adding,  however,  his 
new  commentary.  This  is  to  the  effect  that,  if  we  think  of  the 
Supreme  Being  as  more  than  the  general  idea  of  a  universal  moral 
law,  we  must  be  suspected  as  superstitious  men  or  as  idolaters. 
Can  it  be  wondered  at  if  the  people,  with  all  their  good  humour, 
call  out  to  such  a  teacher,  ^*  Hold  your  tongue  and  come  down ; 
you  are  a  miserable  comforter,  and  know  no  more  about  it  than 
we  do,  though  you  thus  exalt  yourself,  and  your  discourse  makes 
a  noise  like  the  waves  of  the  sea  "  P  ' 

The  above  passages  may  serve  as  examples  of  Schelling's 
declamatory  power.  But  it  was  by  his  philosophy  of  nature  and 
by  the  imaginative  style  of  his  lectures  on  that  subject  that 
he  led  young  romantic  writers  into  the  recesses  of  poetical 
mysticism. 

Nature  and  the  Mind,  said  Schelling,  are  in  their  essence  one. 
In  Nature  ideas  are  divided  and  become  external  and  visible }  in 
the  Mind  they  return  to  union.  The  processes  of  Nature  are  so 
many  ascending  steps  by  which  the  Mind  Qscapes  from  its  subjec- 
tion to  external  laws,  recognises  itself  and  becomes  conscious  of 
its  ovm  freedom.  Every  phenomenon  in  Nature  is  the  incorpo- 
ration of  an  idea. 

These  doctrines,  vaguely  conceived  by  imaginative  young  men, 
led  them  to  write  as  interpreters  of  a  meaning  concealed  and 
revealed  by  the  symbols  of  the  external  world.  They  gave,  in 
their  romantic  stories,  sentiments  and  thoughts  to  landscapes, 
heard  tales  of  wonder  told  by  running  brooks  and  waterfalls,  and 
described,  or  implied,  reciprocal  relations  existing  between  man 
and  the  surrounding  world. 

The  thought  thus  expressed  in  fantastic  forms  seemed  new  and 
bold,  when  pronounced  as  philosophy  and  written  in  prose ;  but 
in  poetry  it  was  far  older  than  the  times  of  Schelling.  It  is 
impHed  in  Milton's  words — 

The  Mind  is  its  own  place. 


380  .  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

When  man  fint  sinned  '  the  sky  loweredi'  says  the  writer  of 
'  Paradise  Lost'    Wordsworth  speaks  of — 

ft 

The  human  Boal  of  nnivenal  earth 
Dreaming  of  things  to  come. 

He  might  have  derived  the  thought  from  Schelling,  through 
Coleridge^  who  wrote  the  lines — 

We  receive  but  what  we  giye 
And  in  onr  life  alone  doth  nature  live ; 
Oars  b  hAr  wedding-garment ;  ours  her  shroud. 

The  Scottish  peasant  Bums,  when  he  has  to  say  farewell  to 

*  the  bonnie  banks  of  Ayr,'  makes  the  scenexy  reflect  his  own 

grief— 

The  gloomy  night  is  gathering  fast* 
Loud  roars  the  wild,  inconstant  blast. 

But  this  is  an  accidental  coincidence  of  which  the  poet  makes  use. 
His  words  by  no  means  represent  Schelling*s  doctrine.  That  it 
may  be  fairly  stated,  we  quote. a  few  passages  from  a  dialogue 
(written  in.  1816-17)  on  'The  Connection  of  Nature  with  the 
World  of  Spirits.'  It  was,  afterwards,  entitled  '  Clara,'  and  was 
published  separately  in  1862.  The  following  passage  shows  that 
iSchoUing  could  view  as  credible  the  virtues  ascribed  to  holy 
places  and  pilgrimagesj — 

*  There  is  a  peculiar  and  mysterious  power '  (said  the  physician) 

*  that  dwells  concealed  in  a  locality.  Certain  tenets  or  views  of 
the  world  are  found  indigenous  in  certain  defined  localities,  and 
not  only  on  large  continents  (as  in  the  East)  but  in  small  districts 
and  such  as  lie  in  the' midst  of  regions  inhabited  by  people  of  an 
alien  creed/>  ...  Were  not  the  ancient  oracles  confined  to  certain 
places  ?  And  may  we  not  thence  infer  generally,  that  locality,  in 
its  relations  with  the  higher  [spiritual]  life,  is  not  such  an 
indifierent  thing  as  has  been  commonly  supposed  P ' 

The  writer  of  the  dialogue  then  proceeds  to  state  his  belief  of  a 
doctrine  implied  in  a  thousand  superstitions,  and  often  expressed, 
more  or  less  distinctly,  in  poetry : — '  How  often  should  we  be 
surprised  to  find  (if  we  had  not  the  confirmed  habit  of  seeing  only 
outward  things)  that  the  circumstances  which  we  mistake  for 
causes  are  merely  means  and  conditions,  and  that — ^whUe  we  axe 
little  thinking  of  it— spirits  are  active  around  us,  and  ready  to 


XXIV.]  SCHELUNG.  881 

lead  U8|  either  to  good  or  to  otU,  according  as  we  yield  to  the 
influence  of  one  or  the  other.' 

In  another  passage  of  the  same  dialogue,  one  of  the  speakers 
expresses,  at  least,  a  -willingness  to  helieve  that  certain  regions 
are  under  the  care  of  patron  saints : — '  May  it  not  be  assumed/  says 
Claiii,  'that  the  souls  of  the  men  who  have  long  had  reverence 
paid  to  them  in  certain  districts  may,  through  the  magic  influence 
of  faith,  actually  become  the  Guardian  Spirits  of  those  localities  ? 
I  speak  of  the  men  who  first  brought  into  these  forests  the  light 
of  the  faith,  who  first  planted  vines  on  these  hills  and  com  in 
these  valleys,  and  who  were  thus  the  authors  of  a  more  humanised 
life  in  regions  previtusly  wild  and  almost  inaccessible — is  it  not 
natural,  I  say,  that  they  should  retain  a  permanent  interest  in  the 
district  which  they  brought  to  a  state  of  culture  and  in  the  people 
whom  they  led  to  union  in  one  faith  P  ' 

Schelling  accepted,  as  we  have  seen,  the  intuitions  of  poetry 
and  even  the  general  doctrine  implied  in  some  old  Catholic 
legends  of  saints.  But  he  did  far  more  than  this.  He  asserted, 
in  its  widest  generalisation,  the  theory  of  a  sympathy  of  the 
Mind  with  Nature — a  union  which  he  describes  in  the  following 
passages : — 

'  O  Springtime,  the  season  of  aspiration  !  with  what  delight  in 
life  thou  fiUcst  the  heart  1  On  one  side,  the  spiritual  world  is 
attracting  us,  and  we  feel  assured  that  only  in  its  closest  bond  of 
union  can  our  true  happiness  be  found.  On  the  other  hand. 
Nature,  with  her  thousandfold  witcheries,  calls  back  our  heart 
and  our  senses  to  her  own  external  life.  It  is  hard  that  neither 
the  internal  nor  the  external  can  fully  satisfy  our  desires,  and  that 
the  souls  in  which  the  two  are  united  .are  so  few.  ...  A  life 
purely  spiritual  cannot  satisfy  us ;  there  is  something  in  us  that 
has  a  longing  for  reality.  ...  As  the  thoughts  of  the  artist  can 
find  no  rest  until  he  has  embodied  them  in  an  external  repre* 
sentation;  as  the  man  of  genius,  when  inspired  by  an  ideal, 
strives  either  to  find  it,  or  to  reveal  it  in  a  bodily  form ;  so  the 
object  of  all  our  aspiration  is  to  find  in  the  perfect  material  the 
^counterpart  and  the  reflection  of  the  perfect  spiritual.'  .  .  • 

'  It  is  the  Springtime  that  has  awakened  in  me  this  blossoming 
of  thoughts  and  hopes.  I  see  it  clearly,  and  feel  it  deeply. — We 
are  the  children  of  Nature ;  we  belong  to  her  by  our  birth,  and 
we  can  never  be  wholly  separated  from  her,  and  if  Nature  does 


382  OUTLINES  OP  GEKMAN  UTEEATURR  [Oh. 

not  belong  to  God  we  also  cannot  belong  to  Him.  .  .  .  Not  we 
alone  aspire ;  bat  all  Natare  longs  to  return  to  the  Source  of  her 
existence.  True^  she  la  now  made  sabject  to  the  law  of  exter- 
nality. .  .  .  But  this  firm  structure  of  the  world  will,  at  last,  be 
reaolyed  into  a  spiritual  life.  .  .  .  The  divine  fire  that  now  lies 
imprisoned  there  will  finally  preTail,  and  will  consume  all  that 
now  exists  only  by  means  of  a  repression  of  Nature's  true  inner 
Hfe.' 

In  an  essay  from  which  we  have  already  quoted  some  passages, 
Schelling  asserts  that  he  was  accused  of  coinciding  with  some  of 
the  doctrines  of  mystics  whose  works  he  had  not  read.-  If  he  had 
not,  when  he  wrote  this  dialogue  ('  Clara  ')^tudied  the  principal 
doctrines  of  Jacob  Bohme,  their  agreement  with  the  last  of  the 
above-quoted  passages  would  be  very  remarkable.  From  one  of 
Schelling's  poems  it  might  be  inferred  that,  as  early  as  1800,  he 
had  read  some  works  by  the  theosophist  of  Gorlitz.  To  him 
must  be  ascribed  the  boldest  enunciation  of  a  thought  that 
gave  to  Schelling's  earlier  lectures  their  mysterious  charm  and 
attraction. 

A  notion  has  so  long  prevailed  (among  some  classes  of  English 
readers)  of  the  negative  character  of  all  German  philosophy,  'and 
of  its  tendency  to  destroy  even  the  foundations  of  religion,  that  it 
is  a  duty  to  represent  fcurly  speculations  that  might  serve  rather 
to  encourage  superatition  than  to  spread  unbelief. 

The  passages  that  have  been  quoted  are  not  selections  made  to 
represent  only  the  earlier  Yloctrines  of  one  speculative  writer. 
Numerous  passages  might  be  referred  to  in  the  writings  of  Meyer, 
Schubert,  and  Baader,  to  show  how  prevalent  was  the  doctrine 
expounded  by  Schelling,  and  how  deeply  rooted  was  the  mysticism 
expressed  in  some  fictions  of  the  Romantic  School. 

*  There  is  in  Nature  an  ascending  metempsychosis,'  says  Schu- 
bert, '  and  an  aspiration  that  man  alone  can  fulfil.'  It  is  with  a 
reference  to  this  view  of  his  own  doctrine  that  Schelling  says, 
'  Teach  a  man  what  he  is  [as  the  minister  and  interpreter  of 
Nature],  and  he  will  be  what  he  ought  to  be.' 

The  most  extraordinary  of  all  expressions  of  such  mysticism  as, 
we  have  described 'may  be  found,  not  in  German,  but  in  a  French 
book  ('  Ijo  Ministere  de  I'Homme-esprit '),  by  Louis-Claude  de 
Saint-Martin,  'le  philosophe  inconnu/  as  he  was  styled.     He 


XXIV.]  MATERIALISM.  383 

thus  describes  '  tlie  sun '  as  '  setting,  every  day,  with  griei^'  on 
account  of  the  ignorance  and  the  sins  of  mankind  :•- 

'  Oui^  Soleil  sacr^,  c'est  nous  qui  sommes  la  premise  cause  de 
ton  inquietude  et  de  ton  agitation.  Ton  oeil  impatient  ne  cesse 
de  parcourir  successivement  toutes  les  regions  de  la  nature.  Tu 
te  leves  chaque  jour  pour  chaque  horn  me ;  tu  te  Ihvea  joyeuz 
dans  Tesp^rance  qu*ils  vont  te  rendre  cette  spouse  ch^rie,  ou 
l*4temelle  Sophte,  dont  tu  es  priv^.  Tu  remplis  ton  cours  jouma- 
lier  en  la  demandant  k  toute  la  terre  avec  des  paroles  ardentes  oh 
se  peignent  tes  d^sirs  ddvorans.  Mais  le  soir  tu  te  couches  dans 
raffliction  et  dans  les  larmes,  parce  que  tu  as  en  vain  cherch^  ton 
Spouse ;  tu  I'as  en  vain  demand^e  a  Thomme.' 

For  the  ideas  so  enthusiastically  expressed  Saint-Martin  was 
indebted  to  his  study  of  Bohme's  writings,  from  which  Franz 
Baader  also  derived  his  doctrines.  To  conclude  these  statements 
respecting  mysticism,  it  may  be  added,  that  Hegel,  who  has  been 
described  as  an  enemy  to  religion,  spoke  with  the  greatest  respect 
of  Bohme  and  of  hb  disciple  Baader.  For  proof  of  an  assertion  that 
may  appear  improbable,  we  refer  to  the  preface  to  Hegel*s  second 
edition  of  his  '  Encyclopaedia.' 

The  speculations  we  have  mentioned  are  now  almost  forgotten^ 
or  belong  mostiy  to  history.  The  modem,  or,  we  might  say, 
recent  school  of  materialism  in  Germany — a  school  represented 
by  such  writers  as  Moleschott,  Vogt,  and  Biichner — is  utterly 
hostile  to  mysticism  and  religion,  but  also  to  everthing  that  was 
accepted  as  philosophical  teaching  before  1832.  Vogt^s  teaching 
represents  a  contempt  for  everything  called  speculation  or  philo- 
sophy, and  would  confine  us  within  the  limits  of  the  special 
physical  sciences.  The  origin  of  the  school  to  which  he  belongs 
should  be  sought  in  France,  or  in  England,  rather  than  in 
Germany,  where,  however,  materialism  is  now  boldly  enough 
asserted.  Such  are  the  revolutions  of  opinions.  A  day  may  come 
when  ideas  and  even  sentiments  may  be  again  esteemed  as  more 
important  than  the  things  now  exclusively  called  '  realities.' 

For  examples  of  the  influence  oi  speculation  on  imaginative 
literature  we  refer  to  the  writings  oi  one  of  Schelling*s  friends 
and  disciples — Heiitbich  Steffens,  a  Norwegian,  who  was  born 
in  1773  and  died  in  1845.  He  was  a  man  of  versatile  talents, 
and  wrote,  beside  several  scientific  works  to  which  we  can  only 


884  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ch. 

refer,  a  series  of  imaginatiTe  stories,  including  'Walseth  and 
Leith/  *  The  Four  Norwegians/  and  '  Malcolm/  They  are  defec- 
tive as  works  of  art,  but  may  be  commended  for  their  originality 
and  deep  religious  sentiment.  The  mysticism  that  led  other  men 
into  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  led  Steffens  back  to  the  Lutheran 
faith,  from  which  he  had  wandered.  He  describes  the  process  of 
his  conversion  in  an  interesting  book,  entitled,  *  How  I  became  a 
Lutheran  once  more/  which  contains  a  remarkable  argument  in 
favour  of  the  Christian  religion. 

Despite  all  the  progress  of  science,  says  Steffens,  a  belief  in  the 
supernatural  manifests  itself  everywhere  as  an  irrepressible  ele- 
ment in  human  nature.  Though  driven  back,  again  and  again,  it 
always  returns  to  the  contest  against  exclusive  physical  science 
and  rationalism.  A  thousand  cases  of  supposed  supernatural 
interference  in  the  order  of  Nature  have  been  found  to  be  erro- 
neous ;  still  the  belief  in  such  events  remains,  and  can  be  neither 
demonstrated  nor  refuted.  There  must  be  some  ground  for  it, 
says  Steifens.  He  then  refers  to  the  popular  belief,  or  notion, 
that  'commotions  or  revolutions  in  human  society  have  been 
frequently  or  generally  attended  with  extraordinaiy  phenomena 
in  nature.'  'Everyone,'  he  says,  *  must  acknowledge  the  fact 
that  man,  as  an  individual,  is  intimately  connected  with  the 
system  of  nature ;  that  his  existence,  indeed,  depends,  as  a  part, 
on  the  whole  to  which  it  belongs.  But  we  assert  more  than  this. 
We  maintain  that  history,  as  a  whole,  or  as  a  total  organisation 
of  all  human  events  and  relations,  and  nature,  or  the  external 
world,  have  always  existed  in  mysterious  and  intimate  union. 
And  as  man  was  ordfuned  to  be  the  regulative  principle  in  nature, 
so  when  his  influence  has  not  been  duly  exercised,  the  restless 
and  violent  elements  of  nature  have  displayed  their  ascendancy. 
This  assertion  is  founded  on  the  general  convictions  of  mankind, 
which  remain  even  in  the  present  age.  .  .  ..  That  a  general 
sentiment  in  accordance  with  our  assertion  has  pervaded  all 
'  nations,  and  that  in  every  age  of  the  world,  during  times  of 
commotion  in  human  society,  the  people  have  expected  with 
'  dread  some  extraordinary  or  destructive  movements  in  nature,  is 
too  well  knqwn  to  be  denied.' 

This  belief  in  the  supernatural,  says  Steifens,  when  left  without 
control  and  guidance,  must  give  rise  to  such  terrors  and  supersti- 
tions as  history  tells  of.    It  is,  therefore,  necessary  that  the  vague 


XXIVJ  STEFFENS.  385 

faith  inherent  in  mankind  should  find  its  true  object  and  should 
be  confined  within  a  system  of  religious  doctrines,  such  as  is  found 
in  Christianity. 

As  an  example  of  this  writer's  powers  in  blending  picturesque 
descriptions  with  mystical  and  highly  imaginatiye  reveries,  we 
may  notice  an  essay  on  the  sources  from  which  old  Scandinavian 
and  other  popular  legends  were  derived.  Steffens  is  not  a  con- 
cise writer.  We  may,  therefore,  give  rather  a  summary  than  a 
translation  of  some  passages.  Thus  he  speaks  of  some  'remnants 
of  superstitious  legends  found  in  the  more  lonely  and  romantic 
districts  of  Denmark  and  Norway : — 

*  Tame  scenery  and  tame  animals,  cultivated  fields  and  educated 
minds,  orderly,  rectangular  streets,  and  logical  notions,  are  natu- 
rally found  together,  while,  if  we  would  discover  any  relics  of  the 
wild  and  beautiful  fantasies  of  early  times,  we  must  turn  aside 
from  the  abodes  of  civilisation,  and  wander  among  uncultured 
mountains  and  secluded  valleys.  These  old  legends  arose  in  the 
days  when  rude  Nature  in  her  primeval  mystery  lay  aU  around 
the  haunts  of  men,  while  her  phenomena  sometimes  excited 
terrors,  and  at  other  times  inspired  delight. 

'  Well  might  our  ancestors,  who  had  to  contend  for  existence 
with  the  vast  powers  of  nature,  conceive  of  such  adventures  as 
combats  with  giants  and  genii;  for  such  tales,  indeed,  were 
symbols  of  the  condition  of  human  society.  The  unmeasured 
forests  woro  a  threatening  aspect,  and  the  wild  animals  which 
came  out  from  their  gloomy  recesses  sometimes  seemed  to  be 
united  in  a  league  against  mankind;  rocks  impended  over  the 
traveller  in  the  narrow  valley;  loud  waterfalls,  with  voices  of 
thunder,  proclaimed  the  power  of  nature,  and  few  and  feeble  were 
the  contrivances  of  art  to  relieve  the  gloom  and  mystery  of  long 
and  stormy  nights  in  winter. 

'  Such  were  the  external  circumstances  favourable  to  the 
growth  of  a  romantic  imagination ;  and  we  may  also  observe  that 
the  feelings  of  men,  not  yet  softened  and  relaxed  by  ease  and 
indulgence,  were  more  intense  in  hope,  or  fear,  or  joy,  than  we 
can  expect  to  find  them,  in  highly-civilised  society.  But  with 
stern  and  strong  feelings,  our  Scandinavian  ancestors  united  some 
gentle  virtues.  Kesignation  to  want  and  sufiering  was  often 
found  connected  with  cotirage  and  energy  jn  the  hour  of 
peril*  •  •  • 

00 


886  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE,  [Ch, 

'  Amid  my  researclies  in  natural  history,  I  had  always  a  great  cu- 
riosity in  exploring  what  I  may  call  the  physiognomy  of  the  legends 
of  various  districts,  or,  in  other  words,  the  resemhlance  which  these 
legends  bear  to  the  natural  scenery  amid  which  they  had  their 
birth.  Various  districts  are  marked  by  the  prevalence  of  various 
kinds  of  plants  and  grasses ;  granite,  limestone,  and  other  rocks 
give  peculiar  formations  to  chasms,  hills,  and  valleys^  and  these 
distinctions  affect  the  varieties  of  trees.  The  effects  of  light  and 
shade  in  the  morning  and  the  evening,  the  aspects  of  waters,  and 
tones  of  waterfalls,  are  various  in  various  districts.  And,  as  I 
i  ..ve  often  imagined,  the  natural  characteristics  of  a  district  may 
be  recognised  in  its  legends. 

*  J  know  no  better  instances  to  support  my  supposition  than 
such  as  may  be  found  on  the  northern  side  of  the  Harts  Mountains, 
where  a  marked  difference  may  be  noted  between  the  legends  of 
the  granite  district  and  those  of  a  neighbouring  district  of  slate- 
rocks.  The  old  stories  that  may  be  collected  between  the  Ilse 
and  the  Ocker  differ  in  their  colouring  from  the  tales  preserved 
among  the  peasantry  in  Budethal  or  Selkethal ;  while  the  legend 
of  Hans  Helling  in  Bohemia  is  a  genuine  production  of  a  granite 
district. 

*  Seeland,  the  island-home  of  my  childhood,  is,  on  the  whole,  a 
level  country,  and  only  here  and  there  hilly ;  but  in  some  parts  it 
can  show  prospects  of  surpassing  beauty.  The  hills  are  rounded 
with  au  indescribable  gracefulness ;  there  is  a  charm  in  the  fresh 
greenness  of  the  pastures;  the  beech-woods  have  an  imposing 
and  venerable  aspect;  the  sea  winds  its  arms  about  amid  the 
verdure  of  these  woodland  solitudes,  and  lakes  of  silver  brightness 
lie  encircled  by  graceful  trees.  The  leaves  rustling,  brooks 
murmuring,  the  sounds  of  many  insects,  tlie  plaintive  notes  of 
birds,  and  the  gentle  plashing  of  waves  upon  the  lonely  shore, 
are  the  only  sounds  which  break  the  silence.  While  I  write  of 
such  a  scene,  I  feel  a  longing  to  return  to  the  quiet  home  of  my 
childhood.  In  such  a  solitude  I  have  sometimes  felt  as  if  I  had 
approached  the  sacred  resting-place  of  one  of  the  old  northern 
deities,  and  have  almost  feared  lest  X,  should  disturb  his  long 
sleep.  Here  is  the  hiding-place  of  the  old  legends,  and  in  such  a 
solitude  we  still  may  feel  their  power.  When  twilight  gathers 
over  woods,  lakes,  and  pastures^  we  may  see  once  more  the 


XXIVJ  STEFFENS.  387 

pLantom-sliips,  guided  by  departed  spirits  of  the  olden  timeSi 
Bailing  among  the  green  islands;  we  may  hear  the  melancholy 
dirges  for  fallen  heroes^  or  the  plaintive  song  of  the  forsaken 
maid ;  and  when  the  storm  is  bending  all  the  boughs  of  the  beech- 
wood,  we  may  hear,  blended  in  the  gale^  the  loud  cries  of  the 
wild  huntsman  and  his  followers.^ 


388  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUEE.  LCi 


CHAPTER  XX7. 

SEVENTH  PERIOD.    1770-1830. 
THB  BoxAKnc  SCHOOL  {conHntud), 

TjSE  Eablieb  Romantio  School  included  the  brothers  Schlegel 
(as  critics) y  Wackenroder,  an  enthusiastic  writer  on  art,  Tieck, 
the  poet  of  the  school,  and  Novalis,  who  was  called  its  '  prophet.' 
ITie  Lateb  Komanhc  ScnooL  is  represented  by  Fouqud,  Amim, 
Clemens  Brentano,  and  EichendorfiT;  all  writers  of  prose  ro- 
mances. 

The  writings  of  the  brothers  Schlegel  served  greatly  to  extend 
the  culture  of 'uniTersal  literature  which  Herder  had  introduced. 
The  elder  brother,  August  WiLHELM  voN  Schlegel  (1767-1846), 
iirst  acquired  fame  by  some  specimens  of  a  *  Translation  of  Dante,' 
and,  soon  afterwards,  commenced  a  '  Translation  of  Shakspeare.' 
At  Jena  he  was  united  with  his  brother  in  the  production  of  a 
critical  journal,  'The  Athenseum  '  (1798),  and  in  writing  a  series 
of '  Characteristics  and  Critiques '  (1801).  He  issued  a  translar 
tion  of  '  Calderon's  Dramas '  in  1803,  and  '  Garlands  of  Italian, 
Spanish,  and  Portuguese  Poetry,'  in  1804.  His  Lectures  on 
Dramatic  Airf;  and  Literature  were  given  in  Vienna  in  1808. 
Subsequently  he  devoted  his  studies  with  enthusiasm  to  Oriental, 
and  especially  Sanscrit  literature. 

In  all  these  writings  August  von  Schlegel  displayed  a  mind  en- 
dowed rather  with  comprehensive  intelligence  than  with  original  . 
creative  genius.  He  was  a  genial  interpreter  or  translator,  and,  when 
prejudice  did  not  obscure  his  views,  an  excellent  critic,  as  may  be 
seen  in  his  reviews  of  several  of  Goethe's  poems.  As  we  have 
already  said,  the  merits  of  Madame  de  Stael's  work  on  German 
Literature  must  be  partly  ascribed  to  her  friend,  A.  von  Schlegel. 


XXV.]  THE  BROTHEES  SCHLEGEL.  389 

Ilis  poems  are,  by  no  means  deficient  in  elegant  diction^  but  may 
be  thus  briefiy  referred  to;  as  they  are  not  remarkable  for  originality. 
'  Ion/  a  drama  written  by  the  elder  Schlegel,  was  a  failure,  like 
the  tragedy  of  'Alarcos/  written  by  his  brother.  Goethe,  as 
director  of  the  Weimar  theatre,  had  long  ruled  there  with  success^ 
but  his  authority  was  defied  when  he  introduced' '  Alarcos '  on 
the  stage.  The  play  was  receiyed  with  derision,  and  Goethe's 
loud  and  commanding  call — ^  No  laughing  there  I ' — was  quite 
ineffectual.  The  chief  innoyation  in  the  elder  Schlegers  criticism 
is  indicated  by  the  facts,  that  he  lavished  enthusiastic  praises  on 
Calderon  and  depreciated  Moli^re.  A  partial  tranRlation  of  Shak- 
speare  must  be  named  as  one  of  the  best  services  rendered  to 
literature  by  A.  W.  von  Schlegel,  who  translated  seventeen  plays. 
The  work  was  completed  under  Tieck*s  editorship. 

August  von  Schlegel  received,  during  the  earlier  years  of  his 
career,  considerable  literary  assistance  from  his  wife,  Caroline 
(1763-1809),  ^hose  correspondence  (first  published  in  1871)  is  an 
interesting  contribution  to  the  literary  history  of  her  times.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  the  theologian  Michaelis.  After  her  marriage 
with  Schlegel  she  often  presided  over  social  and  literary  reunions 
at  Jena  and  wrote  both  criticism  and  controversy.  In  the  latter 
she  ventured  to  attack  Schiller,  and  described  his  character  as 
'  too  pathetic'  Her  union  with  A.  von  Schlegel  was  terminated 
by  an  amicable  divorce,  and  she  afterwards  married  the  philo- 
sopher Schelling,  who  was  twelve  years  younger  than  herself. 

Kakl  WiLHELM  Ebibdkich  vt)N  ScHLSGEL,  the  younger  brother, 
(1772-1829)  gained  a  reputation  by  a  *  History  of  the  Poetry  of 
the  Greeks  and  the  Romans/  1798^  and  in  the  following  year 
wrote  the  notorious  romance  *  Lucinde,'  the  tendency  of  which  is 
directly  opposed  to  the  institution  of  marriage.  This  publication, 
which  brought  great  discredit  on  the  Romantic  School,  should  not 
be  mentioned  as  representative  of  the  c^eneral  tendency  of  other 
writera  associated  with  that  school.  In  1808  Friedrich  von 
Schlegel  went  over  to  tbe  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and,  subse- 
quently, his  lectures  and  writings  were  intended  to  advocate,  more 
or  less  directly,  the  faith  which  he  had  embraced. 

His  views  in  favour  of  Roman  Catholicism  may  be  found  in  his 
treatise  'On  the  Wisdom  of  the  Hindoos/  as  well  as  in  the 

*  Histoiy  of  Ancient  and  Modem  Literature.'  His  lectures  on  the 

*  Philosophy  of  Histoiy  *  were  written  with  religious  and  political 


390     OnTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.     [Ok. 

purposes,  to  which  he  sometimes  sacrificed  a  fair  statement  of  facts. 
The  best  argument  contained  in  these  lectures  is  that  which  ex- 
poses the  danger  of '  negatWe '  reformation ;  or,  in  other  words,  the 
inexpediency  of  destroying  old  institutions  before  new  ideas  are 
prepared  to  develope  themselves  in  consistency  with  the  order  of 
society.  In  the  'History  of  Ancient  and  Modem  Literature' 
(1811-12)  the  author  describes  its  development  in  connection  with 
the  social  and  religious  institutions  of  various  nations  and  periods. 
The  history  of  the  world  of  books  is  thus  represented  ss  no 
pedantic  study,  but  as  one  intimately  connected  with  the  best 
interests  of  humanity.  The  design  was  noble,  though  its  exe- 
cution was  disfigured  by  prejudices,  as  the  following  summaiy 
may  prove : — 

The  first  and  second  lectures  are  devoted  to  Grecian  poetry, 
history,  and  philosophy;  but  the  historian,  instead  of  giving  a 
clear  view  of  these  rich  departments  of  ancient  literature,  wanders 
into  digressions  on  religious  and  other  topics.  In  the  third  and 
fourth  lectures,  the  imitative  character  of  Roman  poetry  is  exposed, 
and  the  oratory  and  the  historical  writings  of  the  Romans  are 
described  as  the  most  favourable  exhibitions  of  their  intellectual 
character.  The  fifth  lecture  gives  an  account  of  the  ancient  lite- 
rature of  the  Hindoos.  The  seventh  and  eighth  describe  the 
poetry  of  the  Germans  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  the  ninth  the 
progress  of  Italian  literature  during  the  same  time.  In  the  tenth 
lecture  Schlegel  expresses  his  censures  on  the  character  of  Luther, 
and  then  proceeds  to  place  in  contrast  with  each  other  the  poetry 
of  Catholic  countries  and  the  imaginative  works  produced  after 
the  Reformation.  He  praises  very  highly  Calderon  and  Gamoens, 
and  ascribes  the  wealth  of  poetical-genius  found  in  Spenser  and 
Shakspeare  to  the  influence  of  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  still 
remaining  in  England  during  the  Elizabethan  age.  Where  facts 
are  apparently  favourably  to  the  author's  theory,  he  exaggerates 
their  importance,  as  when  he  ascribes  the  French  Revolution  to 
the  theories  of  rationalists,  and  neglects  to  describe  fairly  their 
historical  antecedents.  On  the  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  these 
lectures,  while  containing  abundant  proofs  of  the  vmter's  great 
capacity  and  extensive  learning,  must  be  viewed  as  the  arguments 
of  an  advocate.  The  brothers  Schlegel  provoked  opposition  by 
writing  in  a  controversial  tone ;  and,  on  the  other  side,  it  may  be 
noticed  that  some  of  the  severest  censures  of  the  younger  Schlegel's 


XXVJ  NOVAUS,  391 

wriliogs  were  rather  polemical  than  ftdrly  critical.  The  errors  of 
his  earlier  life  were  not  exdusiTe  characteristics  of  the  school  to 
which  he  belonged.  His  poems  can  hardly.be  described  as  original 
or  powerfuL  The  epic  '  Roland '  and  the  tragedy  '  Alarcos '  are, 
however,  far  inferior  to  his  lyrical  poems,  which  include  some 
genial  expressions  of  national  enthusiasm.  It  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  the  Schlegels  and  their  associateS|  with  all  their 
eccentricities,  gave  new  interest  and  a  national  tendency  to  literary 
history. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  all  the  literary  associates  of  the 
Schlegels  borrowed  ideas  from  them.  On  the  contrary,  with 
regard  to  the  depth  and  sincerity  of 'his  convictions,  the  author  of 
the  mediflsval  romance  Hehtrick  von  Ofterdingen  might  be  placed 
at  the  head  of  the  school  to  which  he  belonged.  The  tendencies 
mentioned  in  the  preceding  chapter  were  all  united  in  this  young 
author,  who  called  himself  Novalis,  though  his  proper  name  was 
Friedbich  von  Habdenbero.  He  was  bom  in  1772.  After 
residing  for  some  time  at  Jena,  he  went  through  a  course  of  study 
in  the  mining-school  at  Freiberg,  and  prepared  himself  for  the 
duties  of  practical  life.  He  was  hardly  thirty  years  old  when  he 
died.  His  mind,  like  his  physical  constitution,  was  sensitive  and 
delicate,  and  it  may  be  said  that  his  life  in  this  world  was  mostly 
spent  in  meditation  on  another  world.  He  dreamed  of  a  church 
that  would  unite  all  men  as  one  family,  and  of  a  fiiiih  that  would 
have  for  its  symbols  both  art  and  practical  life.  He  was  not 
content  with  the  internal  vision,  but,  seeking  for  its  realisation  on 
earth,  he  imagined  that  he  had  found  it  in  the  Roman  Catholic 
church  of  the  Middle  Ages.  He  described  that  church  as  the  only 
centre  from  which  a  religious  life  could  diffuse  its  influence  through 
society.  To  find  peace  for  nations  as  well  as  for  individuals,  we 
must  return,  said  Novalis,  to  medi»val  institutions.  In  his  un^ 
finished  romance,  JSeimich  von  Ofterdingeny  he  endeavoured  to 
treat  the  common  events  of  this  life  as  symbols  of  a  higher  life, 
and  in  his  '  Hymns  to  Night '  he  wrote  of  the  vague  longings  or 
aspirations  of  the  soul  as  higher  and  truer  than  all  science  and 
philosophy. 

The  poetry  written  by  Novalis  belongs  only  in  part  to  the  school 
of  which  he  was  styled  'the  prophet'  Several  of  his  hymns 
should  be  noticed  as  true  and  melodious  expressions  of  pious 
feeling,  and  they  are  perfectly  free  from  sectarian  narrowness. 


392  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

The  gentlenesa,  sincerity^  Aid  piety  of  this  young  enthusiast 
tended  to  make  critics  blind  to  the  defects  of  his  writings. 

One  idea — the  consecration  of  art  to  the  service  of  religion — 
may  be  said  to  be  the  substance  of  all  the  tales  and  essays  written 
by  another  enthusiast,  Wilhelm  Heinbich  WaceenrodeR;  who, 
like  Novalis,  died  at  a  premature  age. 

The  romantic  and  enthusiastic  students  associated  with  the 
Schlegels  at  Jena  (in  1799-1800)  believed  that  they  bad  found  a 
great  poet  in  LuDWia  Tieck.  He  was  born  at  Berlin  in  1773, 
and  studied  at  Gottingen  and  Erlangen.  Ilis  early  writings  gave 
proof  of  an  exuberant  imaginative  power  and  of  some  depth  of 
feeling,  but  expressed  also  a  dislike  of  restraint  that  made  bim 
too  ready  to  accept  Friedrich  Schlegel's  doctrine  of  art  and  poetry. 
A  neglect  of  classical  forms  might,  it  was  said,  be  regarded  as  a 
proof  of  original  genius.  Accepting  this  teaching,  Tieck  deve- 
loped in  his  (so-called)  dramas,  Genoveva  and  Kaiser  OctaviamtSf 
the  principles  advocated  by  the  Romantic  School. 

If  his  physical  health  had  befriended  his  genius,  Tieck  might, 
perhaps,  have  been  known  as  one  of  the  greatest  actors  of  his 
times.  His  powers  of  poetic  improvisation  were  extraordinary 
and,  even  in  his  later  years,  his  reading  of  dramatic  poetry  could 
hold  the  attention  of  his  audience  as  if  they  were  bound  by  a  spell. 
*  When  he  read,*  says  Eckermann — referring  to  Tieek's  reading  of 
Goethe's  Clavigo — '  it  seemed  as  if  I  heard  it  from  the  stage,  only 
better  \  every  character  and  situation  was  more  perfectly  felt ;  it 
produced  the  impression  of  a  theatrical  representation  in  which 
each  part  is  well  performed.' 

Steffens  tells  how  Tieck  could,  for  the  amusement  of  his  select 
friends,  extemporise  and  perform,  as  a  solo,  a  farce  introducing 
half  a  dozen  characters  and  including  as  their  chief  an  ourang- 
outang.  The  last-named  character  was  represented  as  a  sentimental 
admirer  of  Kotzebue's  dramas. 

The  extreme  versatility  which  his  friends  admired  was  im- 
favourable  to  the  artistic  culture  of  Tieck's  talents.  Studies  of 
old  German  literature  and  of  the  English  Elizabethan  drama,  the 
assistance  given  in  a  translation  of  Shakspeare,  and  numerous 
contributions  to  poetical  and  dramatic  criticism,  must  all  be  added 
to  a  long  list  of  works  of  fiction,  in  order  to  represent  the  literary 
industry  of  Tieck  during  a  career  which  was  frequently  inter- 
rupted by  a  painful  physical  malady.    He  died  in  1853. 


XXV.]  TIECK.  393 

Variety  without  harmony  is  the  general  impression  left  after 
reading  many  of  Tieck^s  poems  and  prose-fictions.  In  his  early 
life  he  derived  from  his  study  of  Wackenroder's  tales  an  impression 
that  art  and  literature  should  be  more  than  playthings  for  adult 
children.  Thus  he  wrote  (in  1799)  of  '  The  Seductive  Character 
of  Art ': — 'Surely  it  is  a  noble  endeavour  in  man  to  create  a  work 
of  art,  transcending  all  the  low  and  common  utilities  of  life — a 
work  independent,  complete  in  itself,  subservient  to  no  utilitarian 
purpose — a  beautiful  object  shining  in  its  own  splendour.  The 
instinct  to  produce  such  a  work  seems  to  point  more  directly  to  a 
higher  world  than  any  other  impulse  of  our  nature.  .  .  .  And 
yet  this  beautiful  art  is  a  seductive  and  forbidden  fruit ;  and  he 
who  has  once  been  intoxicated  with  its  sweetness,  may  be  regarded 
as  a  lost  man  in  practical  life.  He  becomes  more  and  more 
absorbed  in  his  own  internal  pleasures,  and  at  length  finds  that  he 
has  no  heart  to  feel,  no  hand  to  labour  for  his  fellow-men.  .  .  . 
I  am  shocked  when  I  reflect  on  my  whole  life  devoted  to  the 
luxury  of  music !  Here  I  have  sat,  a  self- indulging  hermit, 
drawing  sensations  of  sweetness  from  harmonious  tones.  ...  I 
cannot  avoid  knowing  that  thousands  are  suffering  under  as  many 
varieties  of  affliction  :  I  know  that  isvery  vibration  of  the  pendu- 
lum is  like  the  stroke  of  a  sword  for  some  fellow-creature,  and 
that  the  world  is  crying  loudly  for  all  possible  help — and  still  here 
I  sit,  amusing  myself  with  luxurious  music,  as  carelessly  as  a 
child  playing  with  bubbles ;  as  if  I  knew  nothing  of  the  earnest- 
ness either  of  the  life  around  me  or  the  death  that  awaits  me.  .  .  . 
Here  is  evidently  a  seductive  poison  in  the  apparently  innocent 
love  of  art.  ...  In  striving  to  be  an  artist,  I  may  become  like  a 
theatrical  hero,  who  fancies  his  stage  to  be  the  real  world,  looks 
on  the  world  round  his  theatre  as  a  very  dull  place,  and  only 
regards  the  actions  and  sorrows  of  mankind  as  crude  materials  out 
of  which  dramas  may  be  manufactured.'* 

It  can  hardly  be  said  that  Tijeck  wrote,  afterwards,  in  accordance 
with  these  sentiments.  His  notions  of  a  union  of  art  and  poetry 
with  social  life  were  mostly  dreamy  and  romantic.  His  Genoveva 
and  Kaiser  Octavianus  were  both  intended  as  representations  of 
the  cHivalry,  the  piety,  and  the  domestic  virtues  that  flourished,  we 
are  told,  in  Germany  and  elsewhere  during  the  Middle  Ages ;  or 
rather  in  such  selected  times  and  places  as  Tieck  and  his  Mends 
might  wish  to  refer  to. 


394  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

The  beautiful  old  legend  of  Genoveva — one  of  the  hest  of  all  the 
old  popular  legends — is  used  by  Tieck  as  a  cord  upon  which  to 
suspend  a  series  of  pictures  of  life,  religion  and  poetry  as  he 
imagines  them  to  have  existed  in  mediaaval  times.  One  fact  that 
makes  the  poet^s  enthusiasm  more  remarkable,  is  that  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  some  sections  of  mediaeval  literature.  He  had 
read  and  studied  the  Minnelieder  and  Ulrich  von  Lichtenstein's 
didactic  book  (^Itwitz),  which  describes  the  refinements  of  chival- 
rous manners  as  having  become  obsolete  as  early  as  the  thirteenth 
century.  * 

The  two  romantic  dramas  Kaiser  Octavianus  and  Fortunaitu 
contain  some  beautiful  passages,  but  they  want  unity.  Their 
neglect  of  laws  of  art  is  the  most  inexcusable  of  all  the  errors  of 
the  Romantic  School.  Granted  that  the  chivalry,  the  mystic  or 
imaginative  religion,  and  the  social  and  monastic  life  of  the 
Middle  Ages  supply  the  best  materials  for  modem  poetry — it  still 
remains  true,  that  the  character  of  a  drama  is  distinct  from  that 
of  an  epic,  and  that  every  poem  should  have  a  beginning,  a  middle, 
and  a  conclusion. 

The  best  of  Tieck^s  shorter  poetical  tales  are  found  in  his 
Phnntasu$  (1812-17),  a  delightful  book  for  readera  not  too  old  or 
too  logical  to  enjoy  the  dreamy  poetry  of  solitary  foresls  and 
woodlands  haunted  by  fairies.  Several  old  and  popular  myths 
and  legends— such  as  '  True  Eckart'  and  'Tannhauser ' — are  here 
connected  by  a  series  of  dialogues  in  which  the  author's  notions  of 
{esthetic  criticism  are  given.  These  conversations  serve  also  as 
examples  of  a  style  of  writing  in  which  Tieck  excels. 

The  story  of  *  The  Love-charm  *  is  quite  unworthy  of  a  place  in 
the  book.  On  the  other  hand,  *  True  Eckart '  may  be  noticed  as 
an  example  of  the  author's  happy  treatment  of  old  popular  legends. 
The  ethical  character  of.  the  story  is  so  noble  that  the  charm  of 
the  original  may  not  all  be  lost  even  in  a  summary,  which  is  all 
that  our  space  will  allow.  It  may  be  observed  that  Tieck  departs 
widely  from  the  'oldest  story  of  Eckart  (as  given  in  the  VUkmi" 
Mga);  but  in  doing  this  he  has  made  more  complete  the  character 
of  the  hero,  who  might  be  called  the  personification  of  loyalty. 

EcKABT,  we  are  told,  was  the  greatest  hero  employed  in  the 
service  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  whose  life  he  had  saved.  The 
result  of  this  and  other  important  services  was  that  the  hero 
became  the  most  powerful  man  in  the  state,  and  stood  next  to  the 


XXV.]  TIECK.  395 

throne.  His  enemies  then  plotted  and  represented  that  he  wished 
to  make  himself  master  of  the  whole  realm,  and  that  he  had 
already  gained  the  fayour  of  a  majority  of  the  people.  The  duke's 
jealousy  was  excited  by  slanders ;  but — fearing  to  attack  Eckart 
himself—he  listened  too  willingly  to  a  false  accusation  of  treason 
preferred  against  two  of  the  hero's  sons,  who  were  seized  and 
confined  in  one  of  the  ducal  castles.  Their  elder  brother  had 
already  fallen  on  the  battle-field,  where  the  duke's  life  had  been 
saved  by  Eckart.  His  third  surviving  son,  Goni^d,  having  boldly 
demanded  that  his  brothers  should  be  liberated,  was  also  accused 
ot  treason,  and,  Portly  afterwards,  the  three  sons  of  Eckart  were 
put  to  death. 

*  When  he  heard  that  his  sons  were  slain,  he  was  so  torn  with 
grief  and  rage,  that  he  lost  his  senses.  He  left  his  fortress,  and 
wandered  into  a  vast  wood,  where  he  roamed  about  like  a  wild 
beast,  and  satisfied  his  hunger  with  roots  and  herbs.  When  some- 
times light  broke  in  upon  his  mind,  and  he  remembered  the  death 
of  his  children,  he  tore  his  gray  hair  from  his  head,  and  cried  aloud, 
**  My  sons  1  my  sons  1  "...  .  Meanwhile  the  duke  was  uneasy 
when  he  heard  that  Eckart  had  escaped,  and  that  no  man  knew 
his  hiding-place.  One  morning  all  the  duke's  followers  and 
huntsmen  were  summoned  to  go  in  many  parties,  to  explore  the 
forest  and  all  the  neighbouring  hills,  and  Burgundy,  attended  by 
his  squire,  rode  at  the  head  of  one  party.  The  day  was  spent  in 
endeavours  to  find  Eckart;  but  the  duke  would  not  leave  the 
forest  even  when  the  sun  was  going  down,  for  he  said  that  he 
could  not  sleep  securely  in  his  castle  until  the  traitor  Eckart  was 
found  and  impris6ned.  .  •  . 

*  After  sunset  the  sky  was  overclouded,  and  a  black  thunder- 
storm lowered  over  the  wood ;  the  wind  howled  among  the  trees, 
the  rain  fell  fast,  and  lightnings  glittered  among  the  branches  of 
the  oaks.  The  duke  rode  as  &st  as  he  could  through  the  twilight, 
and  lost  himself  in  the  heart  of  the  forest,  while  the  squire  lost  all 
trace  of  his  master.  And  now  the  exhausted  steed  which  carried 
Burgundy  stumbled  over  a  fallen  oak  and  was  lamed,  while  all 
the  huntsmen  and  followers  were  far  beyond  the  sound  of  their 
master's  cries.  He  called  loudly  for  help,  until  his  voice  failed, 
and  he  was  faint  and  despairing,  when  a  tall  old  man,  vnth  long 
gray  hair,  made  his  way  through  a  thicket,  and — coming  near  the 
duke — stood  and  gazed  earnestly  upon  him.    Burgundy  prayed 


396  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.  [Oh. 

the  stranger  to  show  pitj,  and  to  guide  him  out  of  the  wood ;  but 
the  old  man  drew  his  sword,  and  raised  it  over  the  head  of  the 
trembling  duke.  In  another  moment  the  sword  was  put  back  into 
its  sheath,  the  stranger  grasped  the  hand  of  Burgundji  and  led 
him  along  until  he  fell  to  the  ground  exhausted  with  fatigue  and 
terror ;  then  the  old  man  lifted  his  companion  and  carried  bim. 
They  had  proceeded  some  distance  in  this  way,  when  the  squire 
found  them,  and  gave  his  assistance.  He  climbed  to  the  top  of  a 
lofty  fir-tree,  an^  was  glad  to  discover  the  light  of  a  cottage 
twiukling  not  very  far  off.  Having  descended,  he  pointed  out 
the  way  to  the  skirts  of  the  forest,  while  the  old  man,  still  carrying 
Burgundy^  followed  but  spoke  not  a  word.  .  .  .  When  they  had 
entered  the  cottage,  the  'stranger  relieved  himself  of  his  burden, 
and  gently  placed  the  duke  in  a  recumbent  position.  Then  the  old 
man  stepped  to  the  shaded  side  of  the  room  where  bis  features 
were  hidden.  **  I  feel  assured,"  said  Burgundy,  *'  that  I  shall  not 
long  survive  this  night  of  terror ;  and  now,  old  man,  step  forward, 
omd  let  me  see  your  face,  that  I  may  reward  you  for  your  service. 
You  have  saved  my  life,  though,  at  first,  you  drew  your  sword 
against  me.  I  know  not  why  you  did  that ;  but  I  know  that  one 
man  (if  still  living)  might  have  justly  slain  me— for  I  slew  bis 
three  sons  I " 

'The  old  man  stepped  out  from  the  comer  and  stood  in  the 
light,  so  that  his  face  was  clearly  seen ;  but  he  spoke  not  a  word. 
The  duke  gazed  upon  that  sorrowful  face  and  recognised  the 
features  j  then,  trembling  and  kneeling,  he  exclaimed : — '*  Can  it  be 
possible,  that  I  owe  my  life  to  the  man  whom  I  made  childless  ?  " 

' "  Say  no  more  I  "  said  the  old  man ;  **  it  is  enOugb.  You  know 
now  that  Eckart  is  true." ' 

Several  stories  of  the  class  to  which  '  True  Eckart '  belongs^ 
and  such  as '  Fair  Eckbert/ '  The  Runenberg,'  and  Die  JE^en — make 
'  Phantasus '  a  book  that  may  still  be  read  with  pleasure  by  tbose 
who  care  nothing  for  the  romantic  theory  of  poetry. 

In  1819,  or  soon  after  a  visit  to  London,  (where  he  collected 
materials  for  the  study  of  English  dramatic  literature)  Tieck 
deserted  the  Romantic  School,  and  began  to  write  novels  founded 
oh  real  life.  The  change  was  accepted  by  some  as  an  improve- 
ment, but  there  were  other  readers  who  thought  that  fairies, 
dreaming  or  half-intelligent  trees  and  wild  flowers,  enchanted 


XXV.]  TIECK.  397 

« 

birds,  and  even  the  witches,  young  and  old,  to  which  we  were 
introduced  by  '  Phantasus/  were  better  than  Tieck'a  additions  to 
the  pile  of  historical  (?)  novels  and  romances. 

In  his  Dichterlehen  (*  Lives  of  Poets ')  Tieck  is  presumptuous 
enough  to  introduce  us  to Shakspeare  I  Some  of  the  dia- 
logues ip  this  audacious  novel  are  clever  and  the  style  is  good  of 
its  kind ;  but  these  subordinate  merits  can  hardly  make  amends 
for  the  writer's  error  in  the  choice  of  a  subject.  There  is,  however, 
one  trait  for  which  Tieck  deserves  credit — he  represents  the 
greatest  of  all  dramatic  writers  as  a  modest  young  man.  Shak- 
speare,  who  is  a  lawyer's  clerk  (as  Tieck  eupposefl),  goes,  in  company 
with  his  theatrical  friends,  Kit  Marlowe  and  Robert  Greene,  to 
consult  a  fortune-telling  astrologer,  who,  by  means  of  a  pack  of 
cards,  can  predict  future  events.  The  seer's  prediction  that  the 
unassuming  lawyer's  clerk  will,  some  day,  be  more  celebrated  than 
his  friends,  excites  Marlowe's  loud,  derisive  laughter,  which  how- 
ever betrays  some  vexation. 

*  "  By  Saint  George  I  "  exclaimed  Marlowe — striking  his  fist 
upon  the  table  so  as  to  make  all  the  cards  dance  about — "  but  the 
prophet  has  made  a  rare,  absurd  guess  at  last! — What  say  you  to 
it,  Mr.  Clerk  ?  " — ^This  is  addressed  to  Shakspeare.  ...  "  Why, 
you  are  an  idiot ;  a  miserable  old  imbecile  I "  Marlowe  continued, 
turning  to  the  astrologer,  '^  and  we  are  still  greater  fools,  to  come 
here  and  pay  money  for  such  low,  commonplace  imposition  as  this ! 
However,  I  will  take  care  to  let  the  stupid  public  know  how 
grossly  you  cheat  them.  You  have  fairly  exposed  yourself  now, 
you  old  necromancer  I " 

'  *'  Blind  and  arrogant  man  I "  said  the  magician  indignantly — 
putting  on  his  cap  and  assuming  a  commanding  attitude — '^  say 
just  what  you  please  I — You  have  drawn  the  bolt  from  my  lips, 
and  have  allowed  words  to  escape  that  I  intended  to  retain  as 
prisoners  in  my  own  breast,  lest  they  should  blanch  your  cheeks 
and  quench  that  brightness  in  your  eyes.  What  care  I  for  your 
fame  and  your  perishable  works  ? — ^your  own  life  will  be  of  still 
shorter  duration.  .  .  .  Not  a  month^  not  a  week  will  pass  before 
you  are  snatched  away  by  a  violent  death  I "...  . 

'Both  Greene  and  Marlowe  were  pale  and  meditative  when  they 
walked  down  the  stairs  and  crossed  the  court  leading  into  the 
street,  now  dim  in  the  twilight.  •  .  • 


398  OUTLINES  OF  GERJtfAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

• 

'  ^'  Put  ftway  all  that  nonsense  out  of  your  head,  my  friend/*  said 
Marlowe  to  Greene.  .  .  . 

' "  You  are  yourself  more  disturbed/'  said  Greene,  *^  than  I  have 
ever  seen  you  before." ' 

This  novel  was  recommended  by  lively  dialogues  and  by  such 
portraitures  of  English  life  as  many  readers  accepted  for  truth. 
Success  induced  the  author  to  write  his  '  Poet's  Death/  a  tragic 
novel  founded  on  the  more  romantic  incidents  in  the  life  of 
Gamoens. 

Several  other  novels  produced  by  Tieck  after  he  had  left  the 
Romantic  School  were  more  or  less  intended  to  express  special 
tendencies.  In  *  The  Young  Master-Joiner  '  he  wrote  vaguely  of 
the  elevation  of  the  working  classes,  and  in  ViUoria  Accorombona 
(one  of  the  worst  of  all  his  novels)  he  suggested  *  the  emancipation 
of  women.* 

The  unfinished  novel  Der  Atrfruhr  in  den  Cevennen  ('  The  Insur- 
rection in  the  Ceveunes ')  meddled  with  subjects  better  left  alone 
by  writers  of  fiction,  who,  in  their  *  religious  novels/  succeed  too 
often  in  making  religion  seem  fictitious.  Tieck  fails  to  make  a 
clear  distinction  between  the  religion  long  cherished  by  the 
Cevennes  people  and  the  stem  fanaticism  to  which  they  were 
excited  by  Louis  XIV.  and  his  '  dragonnades.' 

One  of  the  more  remarkable  parts  of  the  story  describes  the 
conversion  of  a  spy  who,  disguised  as  a  peasant,  has  entered  one 
of  the  secret  Camisard  conventicles.  There  is  some  graphic  power 
in  Tieck's  descriptions  of  scenery  in  this  part  of  the  story;  but  the 
good  taste  of  introducing  such  a  subject  as  persoi^al  religion  in  a 
work  of  fiction  may  be  questioned,  and  the  accoimt  given  of  the 
so-called  '  conversion '  of  the  spy  is  theatrical  and  shallow,  though 
it  was  probably  intended  to  be  reverent.  Thus  the  spy  describes 
his  visit  to  the  conventicle : — 

*  As  we  advanced  further  among  the  bills,  there  passed  us — 
going  stealthily  along  the  narrow  footpath — several  dimly-eeen 
figures.  Following  them,  we  arrived,  after  a  two  miles'  walk,  at 
a  solitary  barn-like  shed.  They  knocked  at  the  door,  and  it  was 
opeoed. "  I  cannot  describe  the  sensation  with  which  I  entered, 
to  play  my  part  as  one  of  this  assembly  of  fanatical  peasants.  I 
felt  a  shudder  of  horror  pass,  at  once,  through  soul  and  body. 
Some  were  kneeling;  others  were  standing.  I  took  my  place 
among  the  latter,  and  endeavoured  to  imitate  their  demeanour,  at 


XXV.]  TIECK.  309 

as  to  ftvoid  detection.  All,  for  a  time,  went  on  quietly.  Every 
eye  was  fixed  upon  the  ground,  and  only  a  few  aged  women 
interrupted  the  silence  by  their  muttering  of  psalms ;  but,  sud- 
denly, a  boy  of  about'  eight  years  old  fell  to  the  ground  and 
struggled  as  in  convulsions.  My  feeling  of  aversion  was  at  ita 
height ;  for  I  was  now  an  eye-witness  of  that  gross  fanaticism  of 
which  the  mere  description  had  so  long  offended  my  reason.' 

The  conversion  that  so  soon  follows  aversion  has  no  sufficient 
psychological  motives,  but  seems  to  have  been  physical,  or,  at  the 
best,  imaginative,  and  by  no  means  deep  and  true.  It  is  followed 
by  an  excitement  thus  described  : — 

'The  assembly  broke  up,  and  the  worshippers  went  forth  to 
find  their  ways  to  their  several  places  of  abode.  .  •  . 

'  I  followed  them,  and — like  one  introduced  to  a  new  world — 
returned  down  the  valley  and  plunged  into  the  densest  part  of  the 
forest.  "  What  is  Nature  P  "  I  had  often  asked,  when,  in  a  fit  of 
imaginative  inspiration,  I  had  roamed  far  among  wooded  hills  and 
green  valleys,  decked  in  all  the  lights  and  shades  of  morning,  or 
fanned  by  the  light  wind,  and  breathing  a  charm  to  lull  the  heart 
in  soothing  dreams.  Now  I  could  understand  the  deep  voice  of 
lamentation  in  the  forest,  on  the  mountain,  and  in  the  murmuring 
stream.  I  could  hear  and  understand  it  now  as  the- voice  of 
the  Eternal  Himself  uttering  His  sympathy  with  all  His  creatures. 
His  voice  seemed  sounding  from  every  wave  of  the  river,  and 
whispering  from  every  leaf  and  twig  of  the  forest.  All  things 
around  me  seemed  to  rebuke  me  for  my  past,  cold,  unbelieving, 
and  indolent  existence.  I  thought,  at  once,  of  the  past  and  of  the 
future.  Every  thought  was  a  prayer,  and  my  heart  was  melted 
down  to  one  feeling  of  devotion.  I  plunged  into  the  deepea 
recesses  of  the  wood,  and  gave  free  vent  to  my  tears.'  .  .  . 

This  excitement  subsides,  and  the  new  convert  is  described  a 
wandering  on  until  he  reaches  a  desolate  landscape,  wbere  no 
tree,  not  even  a  shrub,  casts  a  shade  all  around.  There  is  scarcely 
a  patch  of  grass  on  the  dry,  white  soil  of  limestone  ;  as  far  aa  the 
eye  can  travel,  solitary  blocks  or  massive  groups  of  limestone  are 
seen,  some  splintered  by  frost,  so  as  to  resemble  rudely  forms  of 
men,  cattle,  and  houses.  It  is  a  confusing  and  wearisome  prospect 
of  bare  shingle  on  the  mountain-side,  and  far  down  below  lies  a 
gloomy  and  lonesome  little  town.  '  Here,'  says  the  visitor  to  the 
Camisards, '  I  lay  down  in  weariness  and  gazed  around  me  on  the 


400  OUTLTNES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

scene  of  desolation  and  upwards  on  the  dark-blue  sky.  A  strange 
change  of  thoughts  and  feelings  came  upon  me  here.  I  cannot,  in 
any  words  I  know,  express  how  entirely,  how  suddenly,  every 
sentiment  of  belief,  every  noble,  inspiring  thought,  vanished — 
died  away — and  left  me  utterly  disconsolate.  I  cannot  tell  you 
how  Nature,  the  whole  creation,  and  man,  its  greatest  problem^ 
with  all  his  marvellous  powers  and  all  his  weakness  and  pitiable 
dependence  on  these  external  elements  were  changed  for  me ;  how 
hopeless  and  dreary,  nay,  how  absurd  and  contemptible  all  things 
now  appeared  to  me — to  me  who  had  so  lately  seen  all  things  in 
a  new,  celestial  light ! —I  could  not  repress  my  scorn — I  could  not 
control  myself ;  but  gave  vent  to  a  cynical,  despairing  laugh  at 
the  whole  world,  as  I  now  saw  it.  There  was  no  immortal  soul , 
nothing  but  absurdity,  objectless' existence,  and  miserable  delusion 
in  all  that  creeps,  swims,  or  flies,  and,  most  of  all,  in  this  head  of 
mine  (the  crown  of  the  visible  creation,  forsooth !)  that  thinks  and 
mourns,  and,  at  intervals,  must  condescend  to  the  lowly  necessity 
of  eating,  to  support  this  wretchedness  called  life.  Oh  let  m«  bury 
such  morbid  thoughts  in  silence  I  Annihilation — dead,  cold 
negation— seemed  to  me  better  than  all  the  sum  of  being.  Faith 
and  hope  and  my  whole  inner  life  were,  for  tbe  time,  extin- 
guished; and  long  and  difficult  was  my  return  to  the  cheerful, 
breathing  world.'. 

These  passages  have  been  referred  to  as  dramatic  and  powerful; 
but  they  are  mostly  theatrical,  and  convey  a  shallow  notion- of 
religious  sentiments.  Feelings  and  convictions  that  are  worthy 
to  be  called  spiritual  are  not  liable  to  be  changed  by  a  physical 
accident  like  this  of  wandering  out  of  a  wood  into  a  mountain- 
limestone  district,  however  barren  and  lonesome  it  may  appear. 
This  story  of  the  Camisards,  though  admired  by  many  readers, 
was  judiciously  left  unfinished. 

Tieck's  imaginative  powers  were  far  greater  than  any  possessed 
by  his  friends  the  Schlegels,  and  his  influence  on  the  poetic 
literature  of  his  times  was  important.  His  romantic  friends 
described  him  as  'the  rival  of  Goethe.' 

The  fictions  of  Tieck  and  his  friends  were  all  sober  and  practical 
when  compared  with  the  diablerie  written  by  Hofiinann,  who,  in 
tbe  order  of  time,  precedes  the  writers  of  the  Later  Romantic 
School.  It  is  only  fair  to  them  to  say  that  they  are  not  repre- 
sented by  the  author  of  the  '  Night  Pieces/  and  other  tales  of  the 


XXV.]  HOFFMANN.  401 

same  character.  But  on  account  of  his  fantastio  style  and  the 
merits  of  such  a  story  as  '  Master  Martin/  he  m.iy  be  named  here 
in  association  with  the  later  romantic  authors.  The  error  of 
describing  bim  as  a  follower  of  Jean  Paul  hardly  needs  a  word  to 
refute  it.  As  we  have  seen,  Jean  Paul  has  often  a  good  meaning 
which  he  is  pleased  to  express  in  a  rococo  manner,  while  Hoff- 
mann has  delight  in  the  excesses  of  a  morbid  ima^nation.  His 
works  had  in  their  day  a  considerable  popularity  in  Germany, 
and  some  influence  on  cotemporary  French  literature.' 

Ernst  Theodos  Wilhblm  Hoffhaivn  (who  styled  himself 
Amadous  Hoffmann)  was  bom  at  Eonigsberg  in  1776.  He  studied 
law,  and  held  several  inferior  offices  under  government  until  1806, 
when  war  deprived  him  of  his  means  of  subsistence.  He  was 
afterwards  engaged  as  music-director  at  Bamberg,  and  in  connec- 
tion with  the  theatres  at  Dresden  and  Lieipzig,  but  found  time  to 
write  many  grotesque  and  horrible  fictions  and  some  stories  of  a 
better  description.    He  died  in  1822. 

His  '  Fantastic  Pieces  in  Callot's  Manner '  belong  to  the  gro- 
tesque department,  but  include  one  good  fiction — '  The  Story  of 
the  Golden  Pot'  Other  clever  pieces — such  as  the  shorter  novels 
'Master  Martin/  'Fraulein  von  Scudery,'  and  the  *Doge  und 
Dogaressa' — may  be  found  in  a  series  of  tales  entitled  'The 
Brothers  of  Sera^on.'  Jean  Paul  said — ^with  reference  to  such 
dreams  as  are  found  in  the  'Night-Pieces' — that  'belladonna' 
(deadly  night-shade)  '  was  Hoffmann's  muse,'  and  the  criticism 
may  be  applied  to  several  other  wild. fictions  that  may  be  left 
unnamed. 

Hoflmann  had  versatile  talents.  He  composed  music,  drew 
some  clever  caricatures  of  Napoleon,  and  wrote  musical  criticisms 
in  a  rhapsodical  style  that  was  too  often  imitated.  His  audacity 
in  narrating  as  facts  the  most  marvellous  adventures  is  his  chief 
trait,  and  he  does  not  condescend  to  give  explanations  according 
to  the  method  of  Mrs.  Eadcliffe.  One  of  his  more  sober  stories 
may  be  noticed  to  show  something  of  his  manner. 

In  the  tale  here  abridged  Hofimann  describes,  in  a  lively  style, 
an  adventure  in  Berlin.  The  writer  of  the  story,  strolling  in  the 
Thiergarten,  was  listening  to  some  indifferent  music,  when  his 
attention  was  attracted  to  a  stranger — a  tall  old  gentleman,  who 
spoke  disrespectfully  of  the  Berlin  opera,  and  particularly  of  the 
performance  of  Gluck's  music.    After  some  conversation  with  the 


402  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Oh. 

Btranger  (who  has  a  highly  intellectual  expression  when  he  talks 
of  music),  the  author  receives  an  invitation,  and  pays  a  visit  to  an 
obscure  part  of  Berlin,  where  the  old  man  has  his  lodgings.  It 
soon  becomes  evident  that  the  critic  who  condenms  the  Berlin 
opera  knows  something  of  music. 

'  I  shall  now  give  you/  said  the  old  gentleman, '  some  notion  of 
the  style  in  which  Gluck*s  music  ought  to  be  played.' 

So  saying,  he  opened  a  pianoforte  and  a  music-book,  which 
was  labelled  on  the  back  as-  if  it  contained  the  opera  '  Armida.' 
There  was,  in  fact,  nothing  in  the  volume  except  blank  paper. 
'  You  will  please  turn  over  the  pages  for  me/  said  the  stranger, 
and  the  author  obeyed. 

'  Now  comes  the  overture  I '  said  the  old  man,  and  immediately 
began  to  play  in  a  masterly  style  the  introduction.  Almost  every 
note  was  exactly  correct  according  to  the  best  edition  of  the  opera. 
In  the  following  Allegro  the  leading  subjects  were  given,  with 
several  genial  variations  and  bold  modulations  that  excited 
•wonder.  The  face  of  the  player  glowed  with  enthusiasm;  his 
features  assumed  now  a  stem  expression,  then  an  air  of  sadness^ 
and  while  he  played,  as  if  from  the  full  score,  his  voice  would 
imitate,  now  and  then,  the  low  muttering  of  the  drums.  At  the 
close  of  the  overture,  he  leaned  back  in  the  chair,  closed  his  eyes, 
and  rested  a  few  moments. 

'Now,'  said  he,  'we  will  have  Armida's  grand  scena'  Then 
he  sang,  now  in  low,  then  in  high  and  thrilling  tones.  Love, 
hate,  despair,  and  madness^  all  were  expressed  with  intense  feeling. 
His  voice  seemed  to  have  recovered  all  its  youthful  qualities.  '  I 
trembled,'  says  the  writer,  '  while  he  was  singing,  and,  when  he 
ended,  I  exclaimed,  *^  What  can  this  mean  P — Who  are  you  P  " 

'  He  arose  and  looked  at  me  with  an  earnest  expression ;  then 
took  up  the  candle  and  walked  out  of  the  room.  I  had  been  left ' 
in  the  dark  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  the  door  was 
opened.  There  stood  a  tall  figure  richly  dressed  as  for  attendance 
at  Court,  and  with  a  small  sword  at  his  side.  He  held  the 
lighted  candle  in  his  hand.  I  stood  dumb  with  amazement  He 
stepped  towards  me,  grasped  my  hand  gently,  and*wd^  with  a 
peculiar  smile,  "I  am  the  Ritter — Gluck."' 

This  adventure,  Hoffmann  assures  us,  took  place  at  Berlin  in  1809. 
We  may  add  that  the  composer  Gluck  died  at  Vienna  in  1787.  The 
difficulty  suggested  by  these  dates  is,  howeveri  a  trifle  when 


xxv.j  FouauA  403 

compared  with  the  wondera  that  in  other  stories  are  found  mixed 
-with  A  dry 'statement  of  facts  in  every-dajlife  and  with  the  coldest 
and  most  sceptical  reflections.  But  enough  of  a  class  of  fictions 
that  were  once  more  popular  than  any  of  the  romances  of  hotter 
tendency  which  we  have  still  to  notice. 

Tieck,  Brentano,  Amim,  Fouqu^,  and  Hoffmann  might  all  he 
classed  together  as  writers  of  romances  in  which  will  he  found  a 
fantastic  mixture  of  scenes  from  real  life  with  grotesque  or 
visionary  adveotures.  But  Hoffmann  stands  almost  alone  as  a 
fantastic  dreamer,  and  it  would  he  erroneous  to  confuse  with  his 
morhld  stories  such  romances  as  were  written  hy  Fbiedbich 
Babon  ns  LA  MoTTB  FoT7au£  (1777-1843),  a  romandst  whose 
early  popularity  was  reyiyed  in  recent  years  hy  the  influence  of 
the  English  author  of  ^  The  Heir  of  Redclyfie.'  A  good  meaning 
is  often  expressed  by  means  of  a  fantastic  narrative  in  Fouqu^*s 
best  fictions,  aud  his  wildest  dreams  have  sometimes  a  clear  inter- 
pretation. He  leads  his  readers  through  enchanted  forests  and 
among  mysterious  wandering  knights,  gnomes,  fSuries,  *  koholds,' 
and  talking  waterfalls;  but  we  come  out  of  the  wood,  at  last, 
and  find  a  moral  interest  in  the  wonders  through  which  we  have 
been  led. 

The  well-known  story  of  '  Undine '  (1819),  which  was  trans* 
lated^into  almost  all  European  languages,  is  the  author's  best 
work.  He  might  have  borrowed  the  idea  of  the  fiction,  either 
£rom  the  JEntrettens  du  Comie  de  Qahalisy  by  the  French  Abb^  de 
Montfaucon  de  Villars  (a  writer  of  the  seventeenth  century),  or, 
more  probably,  'from  the  strange  romance,  Der  Bitter  von  Staufen" 
berff,  which  was  written  in  the  fifteenth  century,  or  earlier.  Its 
story  has,  however,  no  close  resemblance  to  that  of  'Undine,' 
which  is  too  well  known  to  be  further  described  here. 

Of  other  tales  by  Fouqu^ — such  as  '  The  Magic  Ring,'  Thio- 
dolph  the  Icelander,'  iUid  *  Sintram ' — it  may  at  least  be  said  that, 
as  their  incidents  are  too  visionary  to  be  mistaken  for  realities, 
they  are  more  harmless  than  novels  that  misrepresent  facts  in 
social  life,  or  serve  as  vehicles  of  sectarian  or  political  satire. 

Instead  of  merely  naming  or  noticing  very  briefly  several 
romances  by  Fouqu^  and  other  writers  of  the  school  to  which  he 
belonged,  it  may  be  better  to  give  a  summary  of  one  of  his  shorter 
stories  as  a  specimen  of  fictions  that  may  be  styled  ethical  and 

dd2 


404  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATrRE.  [Ca. 

symbolical.  It  should  be  premised  tbat^  in  old  Gormao  demono- 
logy,  the  '  kobold  '  or  *  hausgeist '  is  a  ghodt  of  domesticated  habits 
who  is  attached  to  some  locality  or  homestead^  where  he  is  often 
found  harmless,  or  even  useful  (like  Milton's '  lubber-fiend '), though 
he  demands  respectful  treatment,  and  can,  at  times,  be  spiteful  and 
mischieTouB.  In  the  following  story  it  will  be  easily  guessed 
what  human  passion  is  symbolised  by  the  *  hailsgeist,  Kedmantle.' 
The  whole  story  may  be  described  as  a  moral  truth  decorated  with 
picturesque  scenery. 

Bebtholb,  we  are  told,  was  an  enterprising  commercial  man, 
who  was  very  eager  in  the  acquisition  of  wealth.  On  one^  of  his 
loDg  and  solitary  journeys,^  when  travelling  on  horseback  and 
carrying  with  him  much  gold,  he  lost  his  way  in  a  hilly  and 
Uiickly  wooded  district,  and  began  to  feel  anxious,  if  not  fearful, 
'  when  the  twilight  gathered  over  the  oak-trees  around  him,  and 
no  path  was  visible. 

'  He  now  felt  assured  that  he  had  wandered  into  a  very  lonely  part 
of  the  country ;  for  even  the  wild  animals,  which  came  out  from  the 
thickets,  looked  upon  him  without  fear;  they  seemed,  indeed, 
altogether  unacquainted  with  the  dangerous  powers  of  man ; 
while  the  gray  owls,  with  melancholy  hootings,  fluttered  about 
his  shoulders  so  nearly,  that  he  often  bowed  his  head  to  prevent 
their  flying  in  his  face.  Berthold  felt  so  lonely  that  the  face  of 
any  honest  man  would  have  been  the  most  pleasant  sight  in  the 
world,  and  great  was  his  pleasure  when  he  saw  a  man  dressed  in 
the  garb  of  a  charcoal-burner.  In  reply  to  Berthold*s  questions, 
the  stranger  pointed  the  way  to  his  lonely  hut  in  £he  forest,  and 
offered  to  the  traveller  a  night's  secure  rest  and  guidance  on  his 
way  in  the  morning.  Though  Berthold  could  not  distinctly  see 
the  face  of  his  friend,  he  followed  him  tmtil  he  came  to  his  lonely 
hut*  ... 

Soon  after  Berthold  had  entered  the  hut  and  had  been  made 
welcome  by  all  the  charcoal-burner's  family,  the  door  was  gently 
opened,  and  *  a  gray-headed,  quiet-looking  old  man  of  low  stature 
entered,  and  accosted  all  the  family  in  a  fiiendly  way,  but  gazed 
with  an  expression  of  wonder  on  the  stranger.  Berthold  returned 
the  look  in  a  similar  style,  while  the  new-comer  went  to  the  round 
table  and  took  a  seat  on  the  lowest  stool,  which  seemed  to  have 
been  left  vacant  for  him.  There  was  an  expression  of  sorrow  on 
his  face,  which  excited  the  sympathy  of  Berthold,  who  wished  to 


XXV.]  FOUQu:^.  405 

ask  if  this  was  the  grandfather  of  the  children.  But  the  old  man 
folded  his  hands,  and  asked  tlie  host  if  he  was  ready  for  evening- 
prayer.  At  this  question  the  husband  immediately  began  to  sing 
the  old  hynm —  ' 

"  Now  all  the  woods  are  Bleeping, 
Peace  over  all  is  spread '' — 

while  his  wife  and  all  the  children  joined  softly  in  the  melody. 
But  the  voice  of  the  old  man  was  predominant,  and  he  expressed, 
by  several  angiy  glanceis,  his  displeasure  against  Berthold,  who 
did  not  sing.  When  the  hymn  and  the  evening-prayer  were 
concluded,  the  dwarf  suddenly  rose  and  left  the  house ;  but,  after 
closing  the  door,  he  opened  it  again  for  a  moment,  and,  looking 
in,  threw  upon  Berthold  such  a  fierce  and  angry  glance,  that  our 
traveller  was  amazed  at  the  sudden  change  of  a  countenance  lately 
composed  in  an  expression  of  quietness  and  devotion. 

^  '^  This  is  not  the  old  man's  usual  way,''  said  the  charcoal-burner, 
as  an  apology  to  Berthold. 

' "  He  is  crazy,  I  suppose  P  "  said  Berthold. 

<'^He  may  be,"  said  the  host:  ''but  he  is  quite  harmless:  at 
least  he  has  not  done  any  harm  here  for  a  long  time.  You  need 
have  no  fear,  though  he  has  free  entrance  into  our  house  at  all 
hours  of  the  night.  The  door  of  the  chamber  where  you  must 
sleep  does  not  shut,  and  the  old  man  often  wanders  into  that 
chamber ;  but  I  assure  you  he  will  not  hurt  you,  nor  will  he  even 
disturb  you,  if  you  are  as  sleepy  as  myself;  -for,  as  you  must  have 
observed,  he  has  a  very  light  tread,  and  glides  about  like  a  ghost.'' 
At  this  story  Berthold  tried  to  smile,  but  he  did  not  feel  easy  in 
such  mysterious  circumstances.' 

Some  sleepless  hours  passed  away  slowly,  and,  about  midnight, 
the  avaricious  traveller  opened  his  portmanteau,  to  see*  that  his 
gold  was  all  safe.  He  hardly  knew  whether  he  was  waking  or 
dreaming,*  when  he  imagined  that  he  saw,  close  beside  his  bed, 
the  face  of  the  gray  old  man,  who  was  also' looking  eagerly  at  the 
money !  '  "1  love,"  said  he, ''  to  see  such  shining  gold  as  you 
have  hero  I  Yet  I  know  where  there  is  far  more  of  it — gold — 
heaps  of  gold — ^plenty.  ...  I  will  show  you  if  you  will  come 
with  me.  It  is  under  the  earth — ^in  the  forest — under  the  moor- 
land."   The  speaker's  face  showed  strange  excitement. 

< »  Well  'f  if  I  yentuze  to  go  with  you  P  "  said.  Berthold* 


406  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

'  **  I  will  be  back  in  a  minute/'  said  tbe  old  man;  going  out  of 
the  chamber.    "  I  must  put  on  m j  mantle.'' 

'  He  had  not  been  out  of  the  chamber  more  than  a  minute, 
when  another  figure  entered.  This  seemed  taller  than  the  former 
one,  and  was  covered  from  head  to  foot  in  a  blood-red  mantle. 
''Now/'  said  Redraantle^  ''come  al<Mig!  Let  us  hasten  to  the 
forest  I " 

'Berthold  seized  his  weapons.  "With  you  I"  be  exclaimed: 
"I  will  not  leave  the  house  with  you !  Where  is  the  little  old 
manP" 

'"Ha  t  3rou  do  not  know  me  in  this  dress t"  said  Redmantle, 
throwing  back  the  red  cloak  from  his  face.  Berthold  recognised 
the  features  of  the  dwarf :  but  their  quiet  aspect  was  changed  into 
a  fierce  and  eager  expression.'  .  .  . 

6oon  afterwards,  the  iutruder,  offended  by  Berthold's  reftisal  to 
assist  in  digging  for  gold,  suddenly  left  the  hut  and  hastened 
away  into  the  forest.  The  traveller,  excited  by  the  hope  of 
finding  great  tireasure,  at  length  resolved  to  follow  the  tempter. 
'  Courage ! '  said  he,  as  he  rode  into  the  forest, '  the  adventure  of 
this  night  may  make  me  a  wealthy  man  1 ' 

'  He  had  hardly  uttered  these  words,  when,  turning  his  head, 
he  saw  Bedmantle  close  beside  him.  The-  apparition  seemed  to 
have  beard  the  soliloquy,  and  nodded  his  head  in  approbation  of 
the  resolution  of  Berthold,  who  now  endeavoured  to  maintain  all 
the  courage  he  had  summoned,  but  could  not  speak  a  word  to  his 
strange  companion.  Redmantle  soon  broke  the  silence  by  saying, 
"  I  say,  my  friend,  I  have  had  a  very  dull  life  for  some  years 
with  the  poor  charcoal-burner  and  hift  family  there.  The  perpetual 
psalm-singing  and  praying  quite  wore  me  down,  until  I  became  a 
little,  feeble,  low-spirited  old  man,  such  as  you  saw.  But  your 
coming  at  first  excited  me  strangely,  and  then  encouraged  me  to 
return  to  my  old  ways  again.  I  saw  in  you  something  that 
reminded  me  of  my  former  self;  for  I  know  jou  love  hunting  for 
gold  as  I  used  to  love  it,  and  as  I  love  it  now  again.  How  the 
company  of  a  fellow-spirit  animates  me  I  You  see  how  much  I 
have  grown  in  one  night ;  and  I  shall  now  continue  to  grow  higher 
and  higher  still !  But  no  more  words !  Let  us  dig  for  the  gold ! 
You  see  that  hillock  P  There  it  lies  I  Ho,  ho !  the  charcoal- 
bumer  is  too  stupid  for  this  work.  I  could  never  excite  him  to 
it.    Come  along  1 "  '^ 


XXV.]  FOUQui.  407 

'  Berthold  dismounted,  and  after  tying  the  bridle  to  the  branch 
of  a  tree^  followed  the  apparition  to  the  hillock,  which  was  covered 
with  the  cones  of  the  fir-tree.  ^*  Dig — dig/*  said  Redmantle  -,  and 
Berthold  began  to  turn  up  the  earth  with  his  dagger,  while  his 
companion  laboured  violently  with  his  bare  hands^  tearing  up  the 
ground,  until  thej  discovered  two  earthen  vessels,  which  broke 
in  pieces^  and  disclosed  their  contents — mere  ashes  I 

^  At  this  disappointment  the  restless  demon  began  to  wring  his 
hands,  moaned  dismally,  and  pointed  to  another  hillock.  Berthold 
followed^  and  both  began  to  dig ;  but  their  efforts  ended  again  in 
the  same  disappointment — ^they  found  nothing  but  ashes !  From 
one  hillock  they  passed  to  another,  and  laboured  vainly,  again  and 
again,  until  our  traveller  was  exhausted,  but  still  durst  no^  dis- 
obey the  commands  of  Redmantle,  who,  becoming  more  and  more 
exasperated  and  violent,  struck  his  fists  against  the  ground  until 
sparks  flew  from  it,  and  angrily  accused  Berthold  of  having  found 
and  secretly  buried  the  gold  again,  instead  of  sharing  it  fairly. 
The  red  mantle  streamed  in  the  air,  the  figure  of  the  spectre  rose 
higher  and  higher,  and  assumed  violent  and  threatening  attitudes, 
until  Berthold  caught  a  glimpse  of  morning  light,  and  hoard  the 
cock  crow  and  the  moming^bell  tolling  in  a  neighbouring  vilfage. 
Redmantle  was  seen  no  more  by  our  traveller,  who  sooa  found  his 
steed,  and  rode  away,  hardly  able  to  determine  whether  he  had 
been  awake  or  dreaming  during  the  night.  .  .  . 

'  Years  passed  away  and,  once  more,  Berthold,  in  one  of  his  long 
journeys^  found  that  his  road  led  him  near  the  great  forest.  He 
felt  a  longing  to  see  once  more  the  charcoal-bumer*s  hut,  and  to 
hear  the  sequel  of  Redmantle's  history.  Late  one  evening,  he 
arrived  at  the  lowly  dwelling,  and  was  recognised  by  all  the 
family.  All  things  here  seemed  unchanged,  except  that  the 
children  had  grown  taller.  Again  the  family  were  assembled 
around  the  table  at  the  hour  oi  prayer,  and  Berthold  saw,  with 
some  dread|  the  same  low  stool  left  vacant  for  the  unearthly 
visitor.  The  host  seemed  to  guess  the  thoughts  of  his  visitor  and 
said : — ^*  Sir,  I  know  not  what  passed  between  you  and  our  other 
visitor,  when  you  lodged  with  us  some  years  ago ;  but  I  assure 
you  that,  after  that  time,  we  had  great  trouble  with  him.  He 
had  been  so  much  excited  by  your  presence  that,  night  after 
night,  when  you  had  gone  away,  he  was  roaming  through  the 
forest  and  disturbing  our  household.    But  all  that  is  over,  and  he 


408  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ck. 

is  aigoin  subdued.  .  .  .  When  our  own  minds  are  subject  to  evil 
passions,  we  are  liable  to  be  disturbed  by  such  a  Tisitor  as  Ked- 
mantle.  ...  It  is  our  time  for  prayer,  and  I  trust  you  will  join 
in  our  devotion." 

*  Then  the  father  beg^an  the  old  hymn,  and  the  children  and 
Berthold  joined  in  singing : — 

**  Now  all  the  woods  are  sleeping, 
Peace  over  all  is  spread," ' 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  above  is  not  a  common 
ghost-story,  but  a  dream  with  a  truth  in  it.  The  poor  charcoal- 
burner,  who  had  once  been  vexed  and  haunted  by  avarice,  had  so 
far  subdued  the  passion  that  it  might  be  aptly  represented  as  a 
feeble  old  man ;  but  the  presence  of  the  covetous  trader,  acting  by 
a  powerful  sympathy,  called  again  into  life  the  demoniac  energy 
that  was  almost  extinct.  Eedmantle,  in  fact,  was  created,  not  by' 
Berthold's  imagination,  but  by  his  will,  and  was  afterwards  sub- 
dued once  more  by  the  piety .  and  contentment  of  the  charcoal- 
burner.  Stories  of  this  class  must  not  be  classed  with  the  wild 
fictions  written  by  Hoffmann. 

The  best  characteristics,  and  some  of  the  worst  faults  of  the 
school  to  v^hich  he  belonged,  are  found  in  the  romances  written  < 
by  Ltjbwig  Achiic  von  Arniic  (1781-1832),  the  brother-in-law 
of  Clemens  Brentano,  whom  he  assisted  in  editing  the  Wmder' 
horn,  a  book  of  old  popular  songs.  Amim's  unfinished  romance  'The 
Grown  Guardians,'  and  his  numerous  novels  and  some  dramas,  may 
be  left  imnoticed  here ;  for  all  his  merits  and  his  extreme  defects 
may  be  found  in  one  romance — *  The  Poverty,  Wealth,  Guilt,  and 
Penance  of  the  Countess  Dolores ' — which  was  highly  commended 
by  Jean  Paul.  The  character  of  the  heroine,  her  sinfulness,  her 
long  penance  of  poverty  and  disgrace,  and  the  circumstances  of 
her  death,  are  described  with  imaginative  power  and  true  feeling ; 
but  the  romance  may  be  said  to  be  ruined  by  the  intrusion  of  too 
many  episodes  and  reflections,  and  when  it  is  ended  it  begins 
again. 

Several  of  the  episodes  are  in  themselves  attractive,  and  one 
deserves  notice,  as  it  casts  some  light  on  a  class  of  literary  men  too 
well  known  in  Amim*s  time.  His  sketch  of  an  egotistic  and 
sentimental  litterateur  seems  now  very  fantastic,  but  was  founded 
on  facts.    It  was  of  such  a  poetical  phenomenon  as '  Waller,'  that 


XXV.]  VON  ARNIM.  409 

• 

Fichte  was  thinking  when  he  warned  young  men  of  the  danger 
of  making  light  literature  serve  as  a  suhstitute  for  moral  culture. 
Waller  is  a  poetaster  who  supposes  himself  to  be  a  genius,  culti- 
Tntes  no  faculties  except  fancy  and  self-conceit,  and  neglects  the 
common  duties  of  life.  We  meet  him  first  when,  travelling  with 
his  wife,  he  pays  a  visit  to  a  nobleman  to  whom  he  is  thus  intro- 
duced : — 

.  *  The  poet's  wife  addressed  the  count,  and  after  thanking  him 
for  his  kindness,  assured  him  that  in  this  instance  his  hospitality 
was  well  bestowed  -,  for  he  had  the  honour  of  entertaining  in  his 
mansion  the  "celebrated  poet  Waller,*' whom  to  call  her  husband 
was  her  highest  pride  and  delight.  Hereupon  various  compliments 
were  exchanged,  but  not  without  some  awkwardness ;  for  the 
count  and  his  lady  differed  in  their  opinions  of  the  poet's  merits. 
The  count  could  not  say  that  he  regarded  all  Waller's  verges  a& 
counterfeit  coin,  and  the  countess  dui*st  not  say  how  much  she 
admired  them.  .  .  .  Waller  soon  became  so  confidential,  that, 
with  little  invitation,  he  gave,  in  an  animated  style,  various 
details  of  his  personal  history.'  [We  must  condense  his  narra- 
tive, as  it  was  inflated  with  many  passages  of  questionable  senti- 
ment, and  numerous  quotations  from  his  own  poems.]  '  He  first 
explained  how^  like  other  men  of  genius,  he  had  been  poor,  but 
had  found  a  wife  who  possessed  some  property.  ...  He  per* 
Buaded  his  wife  to  sell  her  house  in  town,  in  order  to  purchase  a 
rural  cottage  and  a  garden  which  had  charmed  his  fancy  once  as 
he  rode  through  a  lonely  part  of  the  country.  The  lady  at  once 
c(Hisented ;  for  "  in  all  things  she  obeys  my  pleasure "  (said 
Waller),  and  he  travelled  down  to  the  romantic  cottage  to 
prepare  it  for  her  reception.  .  .  . 

'One  day  was  passed  after  another  in  vain  attempts  to  be  romantic 
and  happy.  He  determined  that  his  wife  should  be,  like  himself^ 
an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  nature;  so  he  led  her  over  the  damp 
pastures,  and  through  plantations  of  firs,  in  the  early  morning,  to 
see  the  sun  rising ;  but  this  practical  poetry  was  accompanied 
with  such  nnromantic  realities  as  wet  stockings,  colds,  and  coughs. 
Waller  was  surprised  to  find  that  real  Nature  was  not  so  pleasant 
as  she  had  appeared  in  the  verses  which  he  wrote  when  ip  town, 
and  that  the  rustics  who  lived  near  his  cottage  were  not  of  the 
Arcadian  kind.  He  read  his  verses  to  some  of  them,  but  they 
<5ould  not  understand  such  poetry,  and  preferred  their  own  rude 


»> 


410  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATURK  [Cii. 

stories  and  jest-books.  This  was  in  the  summer,  bat  in  the 
winter  rural  happiness  waa  sad  indeed  for  Waller.  He  wrote  to 
all  his  friends,  beg^ging  them  to  come  and  see  *'  a  poor  poet  in  a 
wilderness ; "  but  the  roads  were  deep  in  snow,  and  no  friend 
would  undertake  the  journey.  The  poet  was  therefore  left  in 
domestic  quietude,,  until  he  became  quite  weary  of  the  company  of 
his  wife,  and  expressed  his  unamiable  sentiments  in  such  verses  as 
the  following : — 

"  In  this,  my  lonely  nest, 

I  see  no  welcome  gaest ; 

In  vain  my  letters  go — 

The  ways  are  deep  in  snow. 
My  heart  is  restless  as  an  aspen-tree — 
Ah,  why  did  fortune  link  my  wife  and  me  ? 

In  the  spring  Waller  was  glad  to  escape  from  his  solitude,  and 
hastened  away  to  Leipzig  to  sell,  if.  he  could,  a  manuscript  poem. 
'  In  my  pleasure '  (he  continued)  '  at  finding  myself  once  more  in 
the  society  of  civilised  men,  I  quite  forgot  my  wife,  the  rural 
cottage,  and  all  the  beauties  of  nature,  until  one  day,  as  I  was 
sitting  at  n:y  dessert  in  Mainoni's  hotel  (I  was  eating  almonds  and 
raisins),  the  bookseller's  boy  brought  to  me  a  letter  from  my 
wife;  and  what  did  it  contain?    My  absence  had  excited  her, 

for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  to  write  verses Well, 

what  could  I  do  after  receiving  this  touching  letter  ihtreating  me 
to  return  ?  I  hastened  away  from  Leipzig,  and  left  my  transac- 
tion with  the  bookseller  unfinished.  For  a  time  I  continued  my 
studies  in  our  lonely  cottage,  and  my  wife  (who  is  a  clever  artist) 
made  some  drawings  to  illustrate  my  poem.  But  now  a  new 
trouble  arose.  I  had  bought  a  little  estate,  and  knew  nothing  of 
its  management.  I  was  losing  money ;  so  I  persuaded  my  wife  to 
'  let  me  sell  the  cottage,  and  we  returned  to  live  in  town  once 
more.  Here  our  circumstances  were  straitened;  she  was  very 
anxious,  and  worked  hard,  so  that  all  her  drawings  were  finished 
before  half  of  my  poem  was  written.  To  indte  my  industry,  she 
wakened  me  early  every  morning,  and  prepared  for  me  a  cup  of 
coffee  in  my  study.  Of  course  she  meant  well  in  all  these  little 
attentions  and  indulgences  bestowed  on  me ;  but  she  did  not  know 
that  all  such  things  tend  to  depress  poetic  genius.  In  a  gloomy 
mood  I  now  wrote  an  elegy,  in  which  I  represented  myself  as  a 
weaver,  and  my  wife  as  a  spinster.    1  will  read  it  to  you.'    Here 


XXV.]  CLEM  FINS  BRENTANO.  411 

Wallefr  tried  the  count's  last  degree  of  patience  by  reciting  some 
absurd,  sentimental  verses. 

Bbttina  yon  Arndc,  the  sister  of  Clemens  Brentano  and  the 
wife  of  Von  Arnim,  may  be  mentioned  as  the  authoress  of  an 
enthusiastic  book,  ^  Goethe's  Correspondence  with  a  Child/  which 
was  once  read  with  great  interest  and  may  be  referred  to  as  a 
strange  psychological  romance.  In  Bettina  von  Amim's  stories  it 
is  impossible  to  determine  where  facts  end  and  imaginations  begin. 
Her  melancholy  memoirs  of  a  friend,  Caroline  von  GUnderode  (who 
committed  suicide),  read  like  chapters  from  a  wild  romance,  but  they 
are  founded  on  facts. 

There  is,  however^  hardly  anything  in  Bettinn's  writings  as 
rhapsodical  and  obscure  as  some  of  the  tales  and  poems  written 
by  her  brother,  Olemeits  Brenxa.no  (1778-1842).  A  want  of 
harmony,  or,  we  might  say,  a  love  of  discords,  was  the  chief  trait 
in  his  life,  as  in  his  fantastic  novels  and  dramas.  His  cantata,  'The 
Merry  Musicians,'  if  it  could  be  translated,  might  serve  to  repre- 
sent his  own  characteristics.  The  miseries  of  a  strolling  company 
are  here  placed  in  extreme  contrast  with  their  merry  and  bois- 
terous music.    The  following  is  one  of  the  less  tragic  stanzas : — 

like  nigbtingalea,  uDseen,  that  sing 

So  sweetly  all  night  long  in  spring. 

We  come  to  sing  and  play,  at  eve  ; 

For  we  could  not  make  the  listener  grieve. . 

Then  all  the  family  of  strolling  singers  and  players  severally 
relate  their  misfortunes.  The  blind  mother,  a  deformed  boy,  and 
his  two  miserable  brothers,  tell  their  sorrows,  one  after  another, 
and  their  lamentations  are,  here  and  there,  followed  by  a  wild 
chorus : — 

While  we're  stmmming  and  thrumming  the  tambourine. 

The  shrill  little  bells  in  it  jingle  and  tingle, 

And  while  we  are  singing  the  cymbals  are  ringing 

A  cling  and  a  clang  to  our  sing  and  our '  sang/ 

And  the  little  fife,  shrill,  with  a  squeak  and  a  trill, 

Pierces  the  heart,  with  a  joy  and  a  smart. 

This  strange  cantata  was  set  to  music  by  Amadous  Hoffmann. 

Brentano*s  prose  fictions  and  poems  include  the  romance 
^Godwi,'  the  dramatic  and  lyric  poems  '  Ponce  de  Leon '  and  '  Vic- 
toria,' the  story  of  *  The  Brave  Kasperl  and  the  Fair  Annerl '  (des- 
cribed as  the  writer's  best  work),  and  the  humorous  and  pleasant 


412  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEEATUBE.  [Gh. 

fable  of  'Qokel,  Hinkeli  und  Qakelia.'  ^We  have  cultiYated 
nothing  but  our  imagination/  said  Brentano^  'and, that  has 
been  the  cause  of  oux  failure.'  This  was  a  just  criticism 
on  his  own  writings  and  on  several  fictions  written  by  his 
friends. 

One  of  the  best  of  the  writers  who,  after  the  War  of  liberation, 
endeavoured  to  maintain  the  poetic  traditions  of  the  Romantic 
School  was  Joseph  von  Eic^enbobff,  who  was  called  'the  last 
knight  of  the  School.'  He  was  bom  in  178S,  served  as  a  volunteer 
in  the  Prussian  army  (1813-15)  and  subsequently  held  several 
offices  under  the  Prussian  Government.    He  died  in  1857. 

There  is  nothing  strong  or  remarkably  original,  but  much  that 

is  gentle  and  beautiful,  in  Eichendorff's  writings,  which  consist  of 

lyrical  poems,  romances,  and  dramas,  besides   some  works  on 

literary  history.    His  genius  is  lyrical,  as  may  be  seen  even  in  his 

dramas.    The  world  described  in  his  poetry  is  not  extensive,  and 

the  characters  we  meet  in  his  romances  are  few  and  hardly  to  be 

called  individuals.    In  his  lyrical  poems  he  loves  to  meditate  in 

secluded  dells  and  to  enjoy  the  quietude  of  sunset,  or  of  Sunday 

mom   as  described  in  one  of  his  songs  beginning  with  this 

stanza : — 

How  deep  the  calm  o'er  all  extending  I 

How  lonely  all  the  field,  the  sky. 
The  woods ! — their  boughs  so  gently  bending, 
•       As  if  the  Lord  were  passing  by. 

In  tones  still  more  subdued  he  speaks  of  a  common  domestic 
sorrow — the  loss  of  a  child : — 

Then  there  came,  at  break  of  day, 
Notes  of  music  far  away, 

Breathing  over  dale  and  hollow ; 
And  the  singing  seemed  to  say, 

*  If  you  love  me,  father — ^foUow  I  * 

The  author^s  dramas,  though  they  contain  some  fine  passages, 
are  rather  lyrical  than  dramatic,  and  his  longer  fictions  in  prose 
want  sustained  interest.  Among  his  short  novels  Das  Marmorhild 
('  The  Marble  Statue ')  may  be  mentioned  as  one  of  the  dreamy 
and  romantic  class ;  but  the  best  is  entitled  Aw  dem  Leben  einea 
TaugenichU  {^  Passages  from  the  Life  of  a  Good-for-nothing '). 

The  story  is  full  of  the  youthful  buoyancy  and  careless  good- 
humour  of  the  hero,  who  is  a  wandering  fiddler — a  vagabond  in 


XXV.]  VON  EICHENDORFP..  413 

tHe  milder  and  more  imflginative  sense  of  the  term.  He  can 
nowhere  find  a  place  of  rest  in  this  prosaic  world,  but,  wherever 
he  goes,  some  good  fortune  generally  attends  him.  For  example, 
he  has  scarcely  arrived,  in  a  state  of  destitution,  on  the  confines  of 
Austria^  when  he  finds  there  three  genial  though  poor  companions 
who  are  ready  to  aid  him,  as  he  tells  us,  in  the  following  cheerful 
passages  from  the  story  of  his  youth : — 

*  I  see  the  pleasant  countiy — ^hail, 

AustrUn  ivoods  and  birds  and  streamsl 
The  Danube  glitters  from  the  vale, 

St.  Stephen*8  steeple  yonder  gleams 
Over  the  hills  so  far  away» 
As  if  it  welcomed  me  to-  day  I 
Vivat,  Austria ! 

'I  was  singing  the  last  verse  of  the  song,  as  I  stood  on  the  hill 
which  commands  the  first  prospect  of  Austria,  'When  suddenly  a 
trio  of  wind-instruments  sounded  out  sweetly  from  the  wood 
behind  me,  and  accompanied  my  voice.  I  turned  round,  and  saw 
three  young  men  in  long  blue  mantles.  One  blew  an  oboe,  another 
a  clarionet,  and  the  third  played  the  French  horn.  To  mend  the 
concert,  I  pulled  out  my  fiddle  and  played  away  with  them, 
singing  heartily  too.  At  this  they  seemed  amazed,  and  looked  one 
at  another,  like  men  who  have  made  a  great  mistake.  The  French 
Horn  (the  player  I  mean)  allowed  his  puffed-out  cheeks  to  collapse, 
and  looked  very  earnestly  at  me,  while  I  civilly  returned  the  stare 
of  surprise.  He  stepped  nearer  to  me,  and  said :  ''The  fact  is,  we 
guessed,  by  your  frock,  that  you  were  an  Englishman,  and  thought 
we  might  win  a  trifle  from  you ;  but  it  seems  you  too  are  a 
musician.''  I  confessed  that  this  was  the  better  guess  of  the  two, 
and  that  I  had  just  returned  from  Rome,  and  had  found  it  neces- 
sary to  scrape  my  way  over  the  country  with  a  fiddle. 

*  '•  Ha  I  '*  said  he,  "a  single  fiddle  cannot  do  much  now-a-days :  *' 
here  he  stepped  to  a  little  fire  on  the  ground  beside  the  wood,  and 
began  to  fan  it  with  his  cap — **  the  wind  instruments  do  the  woric 
far  better,  you  see.  When  we  pop  on  a  respectable  family  at 
dinner-time,  we  just  step  quietly  into  the  portico,  and  blow  as 
hard  as  we  can,  until  one  of  the  servants  comes  out,  glad  to  give 
money,  or  victuals,  anything  to  stop  our  noise.  Won't  you  take 
breakfast  with  us  P  "  I  readily  accepted  the  invitation.  We  sat 
near  the  fire  on  a  green  bank,  and  the  two  i^usicians  began  to 


414  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

untie  little  bundles,  and  took  out  some  slices  of  bread.  A  pot  of 
coffee  and  milk  was  soon  prepared,  of  which  the  Oboe  and  the 
Clarionet  drank  alternately ;  but  the  French  Horn  siiid,  as  he 
handed  to  me  half  a  buttered  roll,  ^'  I  don^t  like  that  black  mix- 
ture :  this  is  better/'  he  added,  drawing  out  a  flask  of  wine,  which 
he  presented  to  me.  I  drank  boldly  j  but  as  I  took  the  flask  frofti 
my  mouth,  I  could  not  suppress  a  slight  distortion  of  my  face. 
"  Ha  1  it  is  only  home-made  stuff/'  said  he*  **  you  have  lost  your 
German  taste  in  Italy,  I  suppose  P  " 

'  He^drew  from  his  pocket  an  old  tattered  map  of  Austria,  which 
he  spread  out  upon  the  grass,  and  his  companions  joined  their 
heads  over  it,  pointing  their  fingers  over  various  routes.  "  Vacation 
ends  soon/'  said  one.  **  We  must  turn  away  from  Linz  here  on 
the  left  hand,  so  as  to  get  back  to  Prague  in  good  time."  '*  Ridi- 
culous I  "  said  the  French  Horn ;  *^  that  road  will  only  lead  you 
among  woods  and  ignorant  peasants.  You  will  not  find  a  man  of 
refined  taste  on  that  road.**  "  Fine  taste  1  Nonsense ! ''  said  the 
Oboe ;  '*  the  peasants  are  good-natured,  and  will  not  complain  of 
our  false  notes/'.  .  . 

'  Their  scraps  of  Latin,  and  other  remarks,  made  me  understand 
that  my  new  friends  were  Prague  students.  I  felt  melancholy 
when  I  thought  that  three  young  men,  who  could  talk  in  Latin  so 
fluently,  should  remain  so  poor.  The  French  Horn  seemed  to 
guess  my  thoughts,  for  he  said,  ''You  see  we  have  no  rich  friends: 
80,  when  the  other  students  return  home,  we  put  these  instruments 
under  our  cloaks,  stroll  away  from  Prague,  and  find  the  wide 
world  at  our  service.  Ours  is  the  best  mode  of  travelling.  I 
would  not  be  a  tame  tourist,  with  my  bed  warmed  and  my  night- 
cap laid  in  a  certain  hotel  every  evening.  'Tis  the  beauty  of  our 
way  of  life  that  we  go  out  every  morqing,  like  the  birds  over  our 
heads,  not  knowing  under  what  chimney  we  shall  eat  our  supper." 
•  •  •  • 

'Our  plan  was  soon  completed.  We  resolved  to  go  by  the 
next  pad^et  down  the  Danube,  and  accordingly  hastened  to  the 
place  of  embarkation.  Here  stood  the  stout  landlord,  filling  up 
the  doorway  of  the  hotel,  while  maidens  were  looking  out  of  the 
windows  at  the  passengers  and  sailors.  Among  these  stood  an 
old  gentleman  wearing  a  gray  frock  and  a  black  cravat  I  and 
my  friends  emptied  our  pockets,  and  the  steward  smiled  satirically 
when  he  saw  that^dl  our  fares  were  paid  in  copper.    Bat  I  cared 


XXV.J  VON  EICHENDOEEP.  415 

nothiBg  for  his  sconi.  The  morning  was  brilliant,  and  1  was 
enraptured  to  find  myself  once  more  on  the  Danube.  As  we 
steamed  rapidly  along  between  pastures  and  hills,  the  birds  were 
singing,  Tillage  clocks  were  chiming,  and  a  caged  canary,  belonging 
to  a  pretty  maiden  among  the  passengers,  began  to  whistle  charm- 
ingly. I  guessed  the  old  gentleman  in  the  gray  frock  to  be  a 
clergyman,  as  he  was  reading  in  a  breviary  with  a  splendidly 
gilded  and  decorated  title-page ;  and  I  found  that  my  guess  was 
true,  for  he  soon  began  to  talk  in  Latin  with  the  students. 

'  Meanwhile,  I  walked  to  the  bow  of  the  packet,  and  stood  there 
gazing  into  the  blue  distance,  while  towers  and  spires  arose  one 
after  another  over  the  green  banks  of  the  Danube.  I  took  out  my 
fiddle,  and  began  to  play  somo  old  tunes.  Suddenly  I  felt  a  tap 
on  my  shoulder,  and  turning  round,  saw  the  old  gentleman.  '*  Ha ! '' 
said  he,  ''do  you  prefer  fiddling?  Come  and  join  us  at  lunch." 
I  expressed  my  thanks,  putting  up  the  fiddle,  and  followed  my 
host  under  a  little  canopy  which  the  sailors  had  constructed  on 
the  deck.  Here  I  found  a  plentiful  supply  of  sandwiches  and 
some  flasks  of  wine  spread  out  before  my  companions.  The  old 
gentleman  filled  a  silver  goblet  with  wine,  and  passed  it  round. 
Our  reserve  soon  melted  away.  My  companions  related  their 
adventures,  and  the  old  gentleman  laughed,  and  said  he  also  had 
been  a  student,  and  had  often  wandered  far  during  vacations.  At 
his  request,  we  took  out  our  instruments  and  played.  So  the  hours 
passed  away,  till  the  evening  sun  was  gilding  the  woods  and  the 
valleys,  while  the  banks  were  resounding  with  our  strains.  As 
we  came  near  the  end  of  our  voyage,  we  passed  the  diver  goblet 
round  once  more,  and  then  all  joined  in  singing  a  vacation-song 
with  a  Latin  chorus.' 

For  the  purpose  of  placing  together  several  specimens  of  prose- 
fiction,  we  have  deviated  from  the  order  of  time  to  which  we  re- 
turn to  notice  some  productions  in  dramatic  literature  vmtten 
before  the  years  of  the  War  of  Liberation. 

The  tendencies  of  the  '  fate-tragedies '  already  named  were  indi- 
cated in  the  first  drama  written  by  Hbineich  von  Kleist,  who 
was  bom  at  Frankfurt  in  1776.  He  gained  in  early  life  the 
patronage  of  Goethe,  who,  at  one  time,  had  hopes  that  the  drama 
might  be  cultivated  with  success  by  Kleist.  The  gloomy  and 
morbid  temperament  of  the  poet  led  to  the  disappointment  of  such 
hopes.     His  life  yras  a  series  of  almost  aimless  wanderings  in 


416  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

France  and  Switzerland  and  in  his  native  land.  At  one  time  he 
was  a  prisoner  in  France^  at  another  he  conceived  a  plan  of  re- 
tiring from  society  and  living  in  solitude.  The  unhappy  circum- 
stances of  the  time  might  serve  to  increase  his  natural  melancholy } 
hut  it  does  not  appear  that  they  were  the  cause  of  it.  He  died  hy 
his  own  hand  in  1811. 

His  first  drama,  ^  The  Family  Schrofienstein/  1803,  was  a  dismal 
foreboding  of  the '  fate-tragedies '  which  were  afterwards  vmtten  by 
Werner  and  Milliner,  and  served  to  deprave  theatrical  taste. 
There  are  proofs  of  dramatic  talent  and  poetic  power  in  Eleist's 
comedy  *The  Broken  Pitcher/  as  in  his  most  popular  play, 
Kdthchen  von  Heilbronny  and  in  '  The  Prince  of  Homburg ; '  but^ 
excepting  the  first-named  piece,  they  are  all  made  painful  by  some 
morbid  traits.  Somnambulism  forms  a  prominent  part  of  the  plot 
in  Kdthchen^  and  the  same  expedient  is  employed  in  another  play. 

Kleist  wrote  several  tales  in  prose,  of  which  the  most  remark- 
able-ren titled  'Michael  Kohlhaae  ' — is  founded  on  facts  that  oo- 
curred  in  Luther's  time.  The  true  and  original  story  of  inexorable 
revenge  was  gloomy  enough,  without  the  aid  of  fiction.  Kohlhaas, 
a  trader,  had  been  unjustly  treated  by  a  country  squire,  against 
whom  he  brought  an  action  at  law.  But  no  amount  of  damages 
awarded  by  law  would  satisfy  the  vengeance  of  the  injured  man, 
and  he  was  pacified  only  for  a  time  when  Martin  Luther  reminded 
him  of  the  duty  to  forgive.  The  anger  Cherished  at  first  against 
an  individual,  directed  itself  aflerwards  against  society.  Kohl- 
haas  was  found  guilty  of  robbery  and  other  crimes,  and  died  on 
the  scaffold  in  1540.  As  Goethe  said,  Kleist  showed  a  morbid 
temperament  in  choosing  to  treat  minutely  the  details  of  such  a 
gloomy  story  as  this  of '  Michael  Kohlhai^.' 

Kleist's  dramas,  with  all  their  serious  errors,  are  respectable 
compared  with  the  'fate-tragedies,'  of  which  one,  at  least,  is 
unfortunately  associated  with  the  literature  of  the  Romantic 
School.  The  triumph  of  these  dramas  on  the  German  stage  took 
place  in  the  years  of  depression  that  followed  the  War  of  Liberation ; 
but  the  prototype  of  the  whole  class  was  written  by  Werner  in 
1811,  and  must,  therefore,  be  noticed  here.  The  fact  must  not  be 
disguised  that  German  literature  has  its  'night-side.'  To  this 
region  we  are  introduced  by  Werner.  It  has  been  said  that 
Kotzebue  might  have  written  his  worst,  but  not  least  successful 
plays,  with  the  intention  oi  refuting  Schiller's  ideal  theory  of '  the 


XXV.]  WEENER  417 

moral  power  of  the  stage.'  The  remark  may,  however,  be  still 
more  fairly  applied  to  such  triigedies  as  were  written  by  Werner 
and  Miillner. 

Faiedrich  LuDWie  Ziohabias  Webnjbb  was  bom  at  Konigs- 
berg  in  1768.  It  is  enough  to  say  of  his  life  that  it  accorded  well 
with  his  own  theory,  that  religion  and  morality  belong  to  two 
separate  worlds.  His  dramas  'The  Sons  of  Thales'  (1803-4)  and 
'  The  Cross  on  the  Baltic '  (1806)  were  both  intended  to  have  a 
religious  tendency,  which  was  more  clearly  pronounced  in  *  Martin 
Luther.'  It  was  by  his  notorious  fate-tragedy  *  The  Twenty- 
fourth  of  February'  (written  in  1811)  that  he  exerted  a  disas- 
trous influence  on  the  German  stage.  In  1811  Werner  entered 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  In  his  later  life  he  gained  much 
popularity  as  a  preacher  in  Vienna,  where  he  died  in  1823. 

Werner  had  a  fervid  imagination,  and  wrote  with  uncontrolled 
energy.  His  earlier  dramas  have  pompous  situations  and  some 
good  scenic  efieqts,  but  are  less  remarkable  than  the  'fate- 
tragedy  '  already  named.  Its  success  led  to  the  appearance  of  a 
series  of  other  pieces  of  the  same  class,  which  had  a  long  popularity 
in  German  theatres.  Their  character  may  be  indicated  by  the 
following  analysis  of  the  plot  in  Werner's  deplorably  successful 
drama : — 

In  a  miserable  cottage  on  the  Grimsel  we  find  the  peasant 
Kuruth  and  his  wife  reduced  to  such  destitution  tJaat  to  live 
honestly,  seems  no  longer  possible.  The  wife,  urged  by  want, 
advises  the  man  to  commit  a  robbery,  and  he  consents  to  do  it, 
as  soon  as  an  opportunity  presents  itself. 

While  they  are  talking  of  this,  a  stranger  arrives  and  brings 
with  him  a  good  supply  of  food  and  wine,  but  begs  for  a  night's 
shelter  in  the  miserable  cottage.  In  the  course  of  conversation 
Kuruth  and  his  visitor  soon  become  confidential,  and  both  relate 
some  incidents  in  their  own  lives.  The  former  confesses  that  by 
his  marriage  he  greatly  offended  his  father,  who  would  never 
forgive  him. 

'  One  day,'  says  Kuruth,  '  the  old  man  vexed  me  so  much  by 
his  objurgations,  addressed  to  me  when  I  was  working  in  the 
harvest-field,  that  I  hastily  hurled  at  him  a  knife  which  I  had 
been  using  in  sharpening  a  scythe.  The  knife  missed  its  aim  ;  but 
the  old  man,  in  a  frenzy  of  anger,  uttered  the  bitterest  impre- 
cations on  myself,  my  wife^  and  all  our  children.    He  spent  his 

£  £ 


418  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

last  breath  in  that  maledictioD,  was  Boon  afterwards  seized  by 
apoplexy,  and  died. 

'  This  wretched  tragedy  took  place/  says  Kuruth,  '  on  "  The 
Twenty-fourth  of  February,"  and,  on  one  of  the  anniversaries  of 
that  fatal  day  my  infant  daughter  was  slain  by  her  own  brother, 
whom  I  drove  away  from  my  house.' 

The  visitor  is  so  far  excited  by  sympathy  and  wine  that  he  con- 
fesses that  in  his  youth  he  was  guilty  of  manslaughter,  and  the 
act,  he  remembers,  was  committed  on  'The  Twenty- fourth  of 
February ;  *  but  this  coincidence  leads  to  no  recognition. 

The  guest  then  goes  on  to  tell  how  he  emigrated  and  made  a 
fortune.  '  I  intend  now,*  says  he,  *  to  gladden  the  hearts  of  my 
old  father  and  mother  by  making  them  sharers  in  my  riches.* 

Before  retiring  to  rest,  the  stranger  hides  gold  under  the  bed 
of  straw.  The  destitute  peasant  wrestles  hard  with  the  tempta- 
tion presented  to  his  mind.  His  wife  consents  to  the  robbery 
meditated,  but  implores  Kuruth  not  to  commit  a  greater  crime. 

He  would  yield,  it  appears,  to  her  entreaties ;  but  when  he 
enters  the  guest's  chamber  a  knife  falls  out  of  its  sheath,  that 
hangs  upon  the  wall.  It  is  the  weapon  that  was  once  flung  at 
his  own  father  by  the  wretched  man,  Kuruth,  who  now  makes 
it  the  instrument  of  a  greater  crime.  All  this  is  represented  as 
the  result  of '  fate.' 

When  the  murdered' traveller's  pass  is  examined,  it  is  soon 
found  out  that  his  name  is  '  Kurt  Kuruth.'  The  wretched  mother 
identifies  the  body  of  her  only  son,  and  hurls  bitter  reproaches  at 
the  criminal.  But  he  heeds  them  not ;  he  only  reminds  her  that 
this  is  another  anniversary  of  the  fatal  day — *  The  Twenty-fourth 
of  February.' 

Such  are  the  outlines  of  a  drama  in  which  absurdity  and  ev)l 
tendency  are  combined.  It  would  be  wasting  words  to  argue 
that  the  'fate'  described  in  such  a  plot  as  Werner's  is  utterly 
unlike  the  Nemesis  of  antique  Greek  tragedy.  Werner's  notion 
of  'fate '  is  opposed,  not  only  to  morality,  but  to  eveiy  rational 
notion  of  human  existence.  JIan  is  here  made  the  slave  of  a 
'  fate '  which  is  itself  nothing  more  than  a  trivial  accident  A 
dream,  an  arbitrary  prediction,  or  some  angry  words  spoken  by  a 
gipsy,  may  be  enough  to  control  a  man's  destiny,  according  to 
Wemer^s  notion.  If  th^re  is  any  meaning  in  his  play,  it  is  that 
nothing  whatsoever  ought  to  be  done  on  the  '  Twenty-fourth  day 
of  February/ 


XXV.]  COLLIN.  419 

Wernei's  absurd  tragedy  was  imitated  by  MftLLmEB  in  bis 
'  Twenty-ninth  of  February/  which  (incredible  as  it  may  seem)  is 
considerably  worse  than  '  the  Twenty-fourth.'  Such  productions 
would  not  be  worth  naming  if  they  had  not  enjoyed  a  long  life 
on  the  stage. 

Frakz  Grillparzeb,  who  afterwards  wrote  superior  dramatic 
works,  first  gained  his  reputation  by  his  fate-tragedy  Die  Ahnfrau 
('  The  Grandmother ') ;  and  Houwald  repeated  in  Dm  J?t/</(1821) 
the  old  story  of  '  fate/  of  which  the  public  were  hardly  weary 
when  Platen  produced  (in  1826)  his  clever  parody-play  entitled 
'The  Fatal  Fork.'  Its  plot  is  complex  and  tiresome,  but  it  is  far 
better,  in  art  as  in  moral  tendency,  than  the  dramas  fitly  de- 
scribed as  belonging  to  the  'night-side '  of  poetical  literature. 

Two  dramatic  writers  may  be  named  here  as  contemporaries  of 
the  Komantic  School,  with  which,  however,  the  author  first 
named  had  no  association. 

Heinbich  Josbph  von  Collin  (1772-1811)  wrote,  in  oppo- 
sition to  romantic  tendencies,  several  dramas  on  such  antique 
subjects  as  'Regulus'  and  ^Coriolan.'  Collin,  who  might  be 
called,  with  regard  to  his  islear  style  and  construction  of  plot,  one 
of  the  Vienna  disciples  of  Lessing,  was  once  loudly  praised  and 
then  soon  forgotten.  His  merits  were  hardly  more  than  formal.  ' 
A  more  productive  and  imaginative  author,  Adam  Gottlob 
OEHLBNscnLAeER  (1779-1860),  a  Dane,  wrote  many 'dramatic 
poems,  including  *•  4.1addin,'  Axel  und  Waiburff,  and  *  Correggio,' 
besides  lyrical  poems,  romances,  and  legends.  His  command  of 
the  two  languages  enabled  him  to  translate  with  facility  into 
German  his  own  Danish  poems.  The  graceful  and  sentimental ' 
style  of  several  of  his  dramatic  works  is  singularly  contrasted  with 
the  stem  character  of  some  of  his  subjects,  which  were  selected 
from  old  Scandinavian  legends.  His  writings  have  more  im- 
portance in  Danish  than  in  German  literature. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  show  that  the  theory  and  the  practice 
of  the  Romantic  School  led  to  a  serious  degradation  of  dramatic 
literature.  It  could  hardly  excite  either  surprise  or  regret  when, 
after  the  dismal  reign  of  Werner,  Milliner,  and  their  followers, 
Kotzebue's  plays  once  more  gained  possession  of  the  stag«. 

Two  or  three  epic  poems  and  idylls  writtenr  by  prelates  of  the 
Catholic  Church  deserve  notice  for  their  Christian  character,  but 
are  not  otherwise  remarkable.     Ladislas  Pykkeb,  a  native 

ss3 


420  ofjTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUKE.  [Ok.  ^ 

HuDgarjy  and  well  known  as  the  Archbishop  of  ErUu  (1772- 
1847),  wrote  two  long  epics — 'Tunisias'  and  'Rudolf  of  Habs- 
burg  * — in  which  he  supplied  the  want  of  a  mythology  by  intro- 
ducing as  agents  the  spirits  of  departed  heroes.  Iqsaz  voir 
Wessenberg  (1774-1860),  already  named  -as  a  writer  'On  the 
Moral  Power  of  the  Stage '  (see  Chapter  XXI.),  wrote  a  poem  % 

entitled  'F^nelon.*  The  choice  of  the  subject  truly  indicates 
the  pious  and  amiable  character  of  the  writer.  He  was  con- 
demned for  heresy^  and  was  expelled  from  his  bishopric  by  the 
Ultramontanes. 


XXVI.]  THE  WAB  OF  UBEEATION.      '  421 


CHAPTER  XXVL 

SEVENTH  PERIOD.    1770-1830. 

THB  WAB  OF  LIBEBiiTION  (1812-16) — PATRIOTIC  8TATBBMMN— 
PHILOSOPHERS  —  PUBLICISTS — POSTS  —  THB  8UABIAX  SCHOOL  OF 
POETBT. 

'The  heroism  of  the  man  who  saeriiices  his  life  for  the  \>'elfare  of  his 
country  may  raise  some  doubts  and  scruples,  even  in  the  midst  of  our  ad- 
miration, as  long  as  we  do  not  see  clearly  that  it  was  his  absolute  duty  so 
to  act.  Bub  when  we  see  in  an  action  a  sacrifice  of  apparent  honour,  or 
happiness,  or  life,  to  the  fulfilment  of  an  undoubted  duty,  the  neglect  of 
which  would  be  a  violation  of  divine  and  human  law — when  there  is  no 
choice  save  between  duty  performed  at  the  cost  of  life,  and  life  preserved  by 
an  immoral  action,  and  when  the  former  course  is  resolutely  taken,  hero 
there  is  no  scruple,  no  reserve  in  our  approbation ;  we  sa}"*  at  once,  *'  It  is 
good,"  and  are  proud  to  see  that  human  nature  can  thus  lift  itself  above 
all  the  inclinations  and  passions  of  the  sensuous  world.'— Imm.  Kant  (1787). 

It  was  at  Eonigsberg  that  Kant  taught  the  doctrine  above 
quoted,  and  in  the  same  town,  in  1808,  soon  after  the  peace  con- 
cluded at  Tilsit;  the  Tugendbund,  or  '  Bond  of  Valour/  was  insti* 
tuted.  It  was  befriended,  though  not  founded,  by  the  patriotic 
minister  SiEiir.  The  brave  and  true  Gneisenait  was  a  member 
of  the  uuion,  and  Schabkhobst,  the  military  reformer,  was  its  firm 
friend.  The  objects  of  the  union  were  to  elevate  the  depressed . 
spirit  of  the  people,  to  relieve  the  miseries  caused  by  war,  and  to 
prepare  the  way  for  liberation. 

The  predictions  of  Schiller  were  demanding  fulfilment ;  a  new 
life  was  awakening  among  professors  and  students  in  universities, 
and  at  Berlin  Fichte,  in  the  same  year  in  which  the  Tugendbtmd 
was  founded,  delivered  the  addresses  to  the  German  nation  which 
served  to  kindle  a  fervour  of  patriotism.  Some  passages  from  his 
concluding  appeal  may  besi  express  the  spirit  of  the  times: — 


422  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEEATURE.  [Ch. 

*  Gerq^ans !  the  voices  of  your  ancestors  are  soundiDg  firom  the 
oldest  times — the  men  who  destroyed  Rome's  despotism,  the  heroes 
-who  gave  their  lives  to  preserve  inviolate  these  mountains,  plains, 
and  rivers  which  you  allow  a  foreign  despot  to  claim — these  men, 
your  forefathers,  call  to  you,  *  If  you  reverence  your  origin,  pre- 
serve sacred  your  rights,  hy  maintaining  our  patriotic  devotion/' 
.  .  .  And  with  this  admonition  from  antiquity  there  are  mingled 
the  voices  of  patriots  of  a  later  age.  The  men  who  contended  for 
religious  freedom  exhort  you  to  carry  out  their  conflict  to  its  ulti- 
mate results.  .  •  •  And  posterity,  still  unborn,  has  claims  upon 
you.  Your  descendants  must  be  involved  in  disgrace  if  you  fail 
in  your  duty.  Will  you  make  yourselves  bad  links  in  the  national 
chain  which  ought  to  unite  your  remotest  posterity  to  that  noble 
ancestry  of  which  you  profess  to  be  proud  ?  Shall  your  descend- 
ants be  tempted  to  use  falsehood  to  hide  their  disgrace  P  Must 
they  say,  '^  No  I  we  are  not  descended  from  the  Germans  who 
were  conquered  in  1808  P  "  .  .  .  .  And  many  men  in  other  lands 
conjure  you  now  to  maintain  your  freedom.  For  amongiall 
peoples  there  are  souls  who  will  not  believe  that  the  glorious 
promise  of  the  dominion  of  justice,  reason,  and  truth  among  men 
is  all  a  vain  dream.  No  1  they  still  trust  in  that  promise,  and 
pray  you  to  fulfil  your  great  part  in  its  realisation.  .  .  .  Yea,  all 
the  wise  and  good  in  all  the  past  generations  of  mankind  join  iu 
my  exhortation.  They  seem  to  lift  up  iniploiing  hands  in  your 
presence,  and  beseech  you  to  fulfil  their  ardent  desires  and  aspira- 
tions. May  I  not  say  even  that  the  Divine  plan  of  Providence  is 
waiting  for  your  co-operation  P  Shall  all  who  have  believed  in 
the  progress  of  society  and  the  possibility  of  just  government 
among  men  be  scouted  as  silly  dreamers  f  Shall  all  the  dull 
souls  who  only  awake  from  a  sleepy  life,  like  that  of  plants  and 
animals,  to  direct  their  scorn  against  every  noble  purpose,  be 
triumphant  in  their  mockery  P  You  must  answer  these  questions 
by  your  practical  career.  .  .  . 

*  The  old  Roman  world,  with  all  its  grandeur  and  glory,  fell 
under  the  burthen  of  its  own  unworthiness  and  the  power  of  our 
forefathers.  And  if  my  reasoning  has  been  correct,  you,  the  de- 
scendants of  those  heroes  who  triumphed  over  corrupted  Rome, 
are  now  the  people  to  whose  care  the  great  int^ests  of  humanity 
are  confided.  The  hopes  of  humanity  for  deliverance  out  of  the 
depths  of  evil  depend  upon  you  !   K  you  fall,  humanity  falls  with 


t 


XXVL]  FICHTE.  423 

you  I  Do  not  flatter  yourselves  with  a  vain  consolation,  imajrining 
that  future  eventa,  if  not  better,  will  be  not  worse  than  the  events 
of  past  ages.  If  the  modern  civilised  world  sinks,  like  old  Home, 
into  corruption^  you  may  suppose  that  some  half-barbartHn  but 
energetic  race,  like  the  ancient  Qermans,  may  arise  and  establish 
a  new  order  of  society  on  the  ruins  of  the  old.  But  where  will 
yon  find  such  a  people  now  P  The  surface  of  the  earth  has  been 
explored.  Every  nation  is  known.  Is  there  any  half-barbarous 
race  now  existing  and  prepared  to  do  the  work  of  restoration  as 
our  ancestors  did  it  ?  Everyone  must  answer  ^*  No."  Then  my 
conclusion  is  established.  If  you,  who  constitute  the  centre  of 
modem  civilised  society,  fall  into  slavery  and  moral  corruption, 
then  humanity  must  fall  with  you — and  without  any  hope  of  a 
restoration.' 

It  is  impossible  to  mention  here  all  the  literary  men  whose 
services  to  their  country  at  this  time  deserve  to  be  remembered. 
All  classes  were  united  for  one  common  object,  and,  for  once  in 
the  history  of  modem  times,  philosophy  and  political  science, 
poetry  and  reality,  literature  and  life,  were  joined  in  a  firm 
alliance.  Philosophy,  as  we  have  seen,  was  represented  by  Fichte; 
to  represent  theology,  Schlbiebmicher  came  to  the  front,  and 
Steffens,  the  imaginative  man  of  science,  not  only  spoke  for 
freedom,  but  served  bravely  in  the  army  and  gained  the  dibtinction 
of  the  Iron  Cross. 

Among  the  historians  and  publicists  who  aided  the  national 
movement  Joseph  Gorres  (1776-1848)  must  be  mentioned  as 
one  of  the  leading  representatives  of  the  Romantic  School.  He 
was  enthusiastic  and  imaginative  in  his  writings  on  the  faith  and 
the  institutions  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  ultimately  declared  him- 
self a  believer  in  Ultramontane  doctrine.  His  zealous  services 
to  the  national  interest  made  his  name  very  prominent  in  1814 
and  afterwards,  when  he  edited '  The  Rhenish  Mercury.' 

Karl  vok  Rotibck  (1776-1840),  the  author  of  a  *  Universal 
History '  (1813),  and  of  many  writings  on  political  and  military 
affairs,  should  be  named  here,  if  only  on  account  of  his  just  de- 
nunciation of  Napoleon's  despotism.  The  facta  stated  by  Rotteck 
serve  to  explain  and  to  justify  many  expressions  of  indignation 
that  might  seem  intemperate.  A  few  sentences  may  convey  the 
purport  of  the  denunciation  here  referred  to : — 

*  The  victory  of  Austerlitz,'  says  the  historian, '  was  as  ruinous 


424  OUTLINES  OF  GER3MLAN  LITERATURE.  [Cu. 

to  tbe  liberty  of  the  French  people  as  to  the  independeDce  of  Ger- 
many/ After  that,  the  armies  of  Napoleon  fought  for  the  en- 
thronement of  a  despot,  who  had  no  respect  for  the  principles 
asserted  in  the  revolution  which  had  conferred  on  him  his  enormous 
power.  His  flatterers  declared  that  he  derived  his  authority  from 
the  approbation  of  the  people;  but  at  the  time  when  this  was 
boldly  asserted,  the  most  stringent  measures  were  used  to  prevent 
every  free  expression  of  public  opinion.'  .  .  . 

'All  the  governments  of  Europe  were  to  be  reduced  to  a  state  of 
vassalage  under  one  military  power^  and  this  vast  scheme  seemed 
likely  to  be  realised ;  for  in  1807  only  England  and  Turkey  re- 
mained free.  The  despot's  own  relatives,  Joseph  at  Naples,  I^uis 
in  Holland,  and  Jerome  in  Westphalia,  were^  like  the  members  of 
the  Hhemhundf  mere  cieatures  moved  by  one  will.' 

In  a  material  point  of  view  the  system  founded  only  on  the 
strength  of  that  will  seemed  firm ;  but  a  mighty  moral  power 
arose  and  overthrew  the  mechanical  empire.  Poets  and  dreamers 
were  found  to  be  practical  men,  and  Schiller,  Fichte,  Arndt, 
Korner,  and  many  other  men  of  a  class  despised  by  the  tyrant 
called  up  a  power  more  formidable  than  that  of  legions,  and  greatly 
aided  the  nationtd  movement  that  led  to  victory  at  Leipzig  and 
at  Waterloo. 

Patriotism  and  Religion,  represented  by  both  Catholics  and 
Protestants  were  both  united,  as  they  ought  to  be,  with  Poetry 
and  Philosophy.  But  the  great  efFoi-t  demanded  was  physical  as 
well  as  moral,  and  to  preach  the  duty  of  training  the  body  as  Well 
as  the  mind  for  the  service  of  the  State,  Fried  rich  LuDWie 
Jahn  (1778-1852),  the  great  gymnastic  trainer,  came  forward^ 
and  not  in  vain.  His  services  were  urgently  required,  and  he 
gave  them  with  a}l  the  zeal  that  was  the  characteristic  6f  his 
nature.  His  book  on  '  Gymnastic  Training,'  published  in  181G, 
gave  the  results  of  his  practical  efforts  made  before  that  time,  and 
led  to  the  establishment  of  the  Tumveretn  (^  Gymnastic  Union  *) 
as  an  important  attendant  on  mental  culture.  Jahn  gathered 
together,  at  Breslau,  a  body  of  volunteers  whom  he  led  to  battle 
in  1814  It  may  be  added,  as  a  pleasing  instance  of  national 
wisdom  as  well  as  gratitude,  that  a  monument  raised  in  honour 
of  Jahn,  the  physical  reformer,  was  unveiled  near  Berlin  in  1872. 
Such  honour  paid  to  the  good  and  brave  men  of  the  past  is  a  good' 
sign  for  the  Empire's  futui-e. 


XXVI.]  ARll^DT.  425 

But,  passing  over  other  names  of  statesmen,  soldiers,  preachers, 
and  puhlicists,  we  must  hasten  to  note  a  few  of  the  poets  who  now 
a&erted  their  power.  Schiller,  though  dead,  was  still  speaking. 
As  we  have  said,  he  holdly  predicted  the  rising  of  the  nations 
against  oppression,  and  his  writings' helped  to  hasten  the  fulfilment 
of  his  own  prophecy. 

Next  must  be  named  the  steadfast  veteran  Ernst  Mobitz 
Abndt,  who  died,  at  the  age  of  ninety,  in  1860.  In  1806-12  he 
was  travelling  from  one  place  to  another,  to  escape  from  Napoleon's 
inquisitors.  Their  zeal  in  the  pursuit  of  Amdtwas  not  to  be 
wondered  at,  for  he  was  more  formidable  than  a  regiment  of  sol- 
diers. His  words  were  as  truculent  as  any  ever  uttered  by  Hagertj 
the  fierce  man  of  the  Ntbeltmgenlied,  and,  at  the  present  time,  we 
can  hardly  read  them  all  with  approval.  But  no  cold  and  unreal 
criticism  must  be  applied  to  burning  words  kindled  by  an  in- 
tolerable sense  of  oppression.  Amdt  might  have  tajcen  for  his 
motto  the  words  of  Juvenal,  in  the  well-known  passage  beginning 
with  ^ Ef^o  bonus  miles/*  (*Be  a  good  soldier ! ')  Thus  Arndt 
begins  one  song  on  the  right  use  of  iron  in  times  of  bondage  :-^ 

The  God  who  made  the  iron  ore 

Will  have  no  man  a  slave  ; 
To  arm  the  man's  right  hand  for  war 

The  sword  and  the  epear  He  gave, 
And  He  gives  to  ub  a  daring  heart, 

And  for  burning  words  the  breath 
To  tell  the  foeman  that  we  fear 

Dishonour  more  than  death. 

One  of  Amdf  B  most  fervid  ballads  tells  of  the  fate  of  the  brave 
Ferdinand  Ton  Schill^  who^  in  1609,  made  a  premature  and  un- 
successful attempt  to  cany  out  the  design  of  the  Tugendbund, 
Schill  hoped,  by  making  a  bold  attack  on  the  enemy  in  West- 
phalia, to  give  the  signal  for  a  general  rising  of  the  people ',  but 
the  time  was  inopportune.  He  was  compelled  to  retreat  on  Stral- 
sund,  where  his  scanty  forces  made  a  brave  resistance  against 
superior  numbers.  Schill  was  shot  and  afterwards  beheaded; 
then,  as  Amdt  tells — 

They  gave  to  his  corpse  a  mean  fxmeral,  damb» 
With  no  music  of  fifes  and  no  roll  of  the  drum, 
And  no  rattle  of  musketrj'  over  the  grave 
Where  they  buried  in  silence  otir  hero  brave. 

Another  of  Amdt's  patriotic  songs— 


"426  .  .       OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [C2k. 

JFas  Ut  de»  Deutschen  VaUrhtndf^ 

is  so  well  knowD;  and  has  been  sung  so  often,  that  it  may  he  called 
the  national  hymn  of  Germany ;  but  it  haa  been  justly  observed 
that  it  tells  too  much  of  the  old  times  of  division  (Zerstuckehmg) 
that  led  to  the  degradation  of  1806.  The  latter  are  far  better  than 
the  earlier  stanzas,  of  which  we  translate  only  one  :— 

Where  is  the  German's  Fatiierfand  ? 
Is  't  Prussia,  or  the  Suabiau  land? 
Where  by  the  Rhine  the  grapes  are  growing  ? 
Or  where  the  Baltic  waves  are  flowing? 

<Ohnol    Oh  no! 
Far  wider  is  our  Fatherland  I ' 

•  •  ■  •  • 

Where  is  the  German's  Fatherland  ? 
Declare  to  us  where  is  that  land. 
'  As  far  as  'neath  the  spreading  skies 
Our  German  hymns  to  God  aris^^ 

All  that  wide  land. 
Brave  brothers,  call  our  Fatherland  I 

'  All  Germany  we  call  our  own  I 
May  God  behold  it  firohi  His  throne ; 
And  give  to  all  who  in  it  dwell 
True  hearts  to  love  and  cherish  well 

All  this  wide  land — 
All  Germany,  our  Fatherland ! ' 

Theodob  Kobi7£b's  life  and  writings  are  enough  to  prove  how 
the  spirit  of  Schiller*s  poetry  stirred  the  hearts  of  thousands 
during  the  War  of  Liberation.  It  was  remarkable  that  the  youth 
whose  brave  example  had  such  an  effect  in  kindling  patriotic 
enthusiasm  was  the  son  of  Schiller's  most  faithful  friend.  Theodor, 
bom  at  Dresden  in  1791^  was  an  earnest  student  of  Schiller's 
poetry;  and  wrote  several  dramas^  of  which  Zriny  was  the  most 
successful.  But  the  sounds  of  war  called  the  young  poet  away 
from  his  studies  and  recreations  at  Yiennay  where  he  had  gained 
the  appointment  of  poet  to  the  theatre,  and,  tearing  himself  away 
from  flattering  circumstances  and  kind  friends,  he,  with  his 
father's  consent,  joined  a  troop  of  volunteers,  in  which  he  was  soon 
made  a  lieutenant.  He  fought  bravely,  was  severely  wounded, 
but  i^tumed  to  flght  again,  and  animated  his  companions  by 
martial  songs — 'The  Prajfer  before  Battle;'  'The  people  rise,  the 
storm  breaks  loose  I '  '  Thou  sword  at  my  left  side,'  and  others-- 
which  were  collected  under  the  title  'The  Lyre  and  the  Sword,' 


XXVI.]  •  KEENER  427 

Thus  Komer  addressed  the  youth  who  could  stay  at  home  in 

1818  :— 

Let  our  last  hour  come  in  the  midst  of  the  fight  I 

O  welcome  the  death  of  a  soldier  brave  I 
While  you,  *neath  you  coverlet  silken  and  bright^ 

Cower  like  a  dog,  in  jour  fear  of  the  grave ; 
Yoa  will  die  like  a  base  and  a  pitiful  wight. 

,.  •  •  •  .,• 

Here,  come  along  I  whoever  is  strong, 
A  sabre  to  swing  in  defence  of  the  right  I 

There  was  no  idle  boasting  in  Theodor's  battle-songs.  He  was 
ready  to  make  the  sacrifice  which  he  demanded  of  others  for  the 
welfare  of  the  nation.  After  serving  bravely  as  adjutant  in 
Liitsow's  corps  of  volunteers^  Komer  fell,  mortally  wounded,  in  a 
skirmish  which  took  place  near  Gadebusch,  August  26,  1813/ and 
he  was  buried  under  an  oak  at  Wobbelin,  where  there  is  a 
monument  to  his  memory.  lie  anticipated  such  a  close  of  his 
career  when  he -sang  thus  of  IAitzow*8  Wilde  Jagdx — 

See  there  in  the  valley  thej  rush  in  the  fight, 

Where  sabres  and  helmets  are  clashing; 
From  their  blades,  as  on  helmets  of  steel  they  smite^ 
Through  the  smoke  of  the  battle  there  glistens  a  light, 

The  sparks  of  our  freedom  are  flashing. 
What  mean  the  black  horsemen  who  ride  such  a  race  ? 
That  is  LUtzow's  fearless  and  desperate  chase  X 

Who  lies  mid  his  foes  on  the  battle-place  ? 

Though  from  life  and  from  friends  he  must  sever. 
Though  no  more  he  must  join  in  the  desperate  chaae^ 
There  is  not  a  shadow  of  fear  on  his  face, 

For  our  country  is  f^  and  for  ever ! 
The  bold  and  black  rider  has  ended  his  race : 
That  was  Ltttzow's  fearless  and  desperate  chase  t 

Not  only  buch  bold  anB  restless  spirits  as- were  led  on  byKSner, 

but  also  men  of  a  quiet  and  pious  character,  like  that  of  Max  yoit 

SoHBNKEirooKF  (1784-1817),  shared  the  enthusiasm  of  the  time. 

Schenkendorfy  who  wrote  soothing  and  Christian  poetry,  was  the 

author  of  aeyeral  good  patriotic  songs,  including  the  *  Soldier's 

Matin  Song'— 

Awaken.! — ^from  the  dust 
Arise,  ye  sleepers  all  I 

and  the  '  Rhine-song '  (not  easily  translated),  beginning  well  with 

the  line— ' 

E$  kUngi  em  heUer  Klang, 


428  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.'         [Ck. 

The  following  lines  may  giro  some  notion  of  the  first  stanza  of 
thia  excellent  song: — 

The  sound  how  clearly  ringing 

Of  that  dear  old  German  name  I 
Tie  heard  where  men  are  singing 

To  spread  abroad  the  fam^ 
Of  one  whose  ancient  line  is  royal, 
A  king  to  whom  all  hearts  are  ioyal ; 

It  cheers  the  heart,  like  wine^ 
»  To  hear  that  name — ^the  Rhine  I 

Another  of  the  martial  singers  of  the  time  called  himself 
Freimund  Raimar,  and  wrote  battle-songs  and  a  series  of  sonnets 
entitled  '  Sonnets  in  Armour/  He  was  afterwards  better  kno^ 
as  Fbissrich  Rijckbrt,  the  writer  of  a  great  number  of 
melodious  verses  and  of  some  excellent  translations  of  Oriental 
poetry.  Headers  who  are  acquainted  only  with  his  later  writings 
might  not  believe  that  Riickert  ever  wrote,  in  a  song,  the  'Battle 
of  Leipzig/  such  lines  as  these : — 

There,  at  our  Leipzig  three  dayv'  fair, 

We  gave  yon  good  measure — good  measure  of  steel — 

And  we  balanced  accounts  with  our  creditors  there. 

Some  of  the  other  stanzas  were  even  less  poetical  than  that»  and 
might  be  censured  as  almost  savage ;  but  can  we  wonder  at  the 
national  anger  of  the  Prussians,  when  we  remember  Wordsworth's 
poems  against  Napoleon  P  When  the  despot  committed  the  &tal 
error  of  leading  his  army  to  fight  against  a  Kussian  winter,  it  was 
a  British  poet  who  thus  expressed  his  exultation  in  the  vast 
disaster  that  followed : — 

Fleet  the  Tartar's  reinless  steed, 
But  fleeter  far  the  pinions  of  the  Wind 

Which  from  Siberian  caves  the  Monarch  freed 
And  sent  him  forth,  with  squadrons  of  his  kind. 

And  bade  the  snow  their  agiple  backs  bestride, 
And  to  the  battle  ride. 

No  pitying  voice  commands  a  halt. 

No  courage  can  repel  the  dire  assault ; 
Distracted,  spiritless,  benambed,  and  blind. 
Whole  legions  sink,  and,  in  one  instant,  find 
Burial  and  death. 

Even  after  such  a  disaster  as  that  in  Russia,  the  despot  could 
raise  new  annies  and  agsin  assert  his  will  to  hold  Europe  in 


XXVI.]  LATER  WAB-SOKGS.  429 

chaiou9.    Bat  it  was  too  late.    The  people  were  rialDg  in  maases 
to  repel  invasion,  and  the  victory  at  the  Katzhach  soon  followed. 

Echoes  of  the  songs  called  forth  bj  the  War  of  Liberation 
lingered  in  German  poetry  long  after  1816.  Qpe  of  these  echoes  is 
Julius  Mosen's  short  ballad  on  ^  The  Katzhach  Trumpeter/  which 
may  be  given  here : — 

Upon  the  field  at  Kutzbach    the  dying  trumpeter  lay. 
And  from  hia  breast  a  red  stream    was  flowing  fiut  away. 

Hark !  as  he  straggles,  reeling,    what  lifts  him  from  the  groond  ? 
Hark  1  o*er  the  field  comes  pealing    a  well-known  Joyons  sound  t 

It  gives  him  life  and  vigoar ;    he  grasps  his  horse's  mane ; 
He  mounts,  and  lifts  his  trumpet    to  his  dying  lips  again. 

He  gathers  all  his  strength,    to  hold  it  in  his  hand. 
Then  pours,  in  tones  of  thunder,    *  Victoria '  o'er  the  land. 

*  Victoria  1 '  sounds  the  trumpet*-    *  Victoria  I  *  all  around— 

*  Victoria  1  '—like  loud  thunder    it  runs  along  the  ground. 

And  in  that  thrilling  blast    the  trumpeter's  spirit  fled ; 
He  breathed  in  it  bis  last,,   and  firom  his  steed  fell  dead. 

The  regiment,  assembled,    stand  silent  where  he  lies ; 

'  That,'  says  their  brave  Commander —    '  that's  how  a  soldier  dies  I ' 

That  battle  won  at  the  Katzhach  gave  promise  of  the  greater 
triumph  at  Leipzig  and  of  the  final  victory  won  by  Wellington^ 
Bliicher,  and  Gneisenau  at  Waterloo. 

It  cannot  be  expected  that  we  shall  find,  in  the  war-songs  of 
this  time,  any  sympathy  with  defeated  invaders.  At  a  later  time, 
the  fidelity  of  tiie  French  soldiers  to  their  Corsican  leader  was 
made  the  subject  of  one  of  Heine's  ballads,  from  which  a  few  lines 
may  be  quoted.  They  tell  how  the  news  from  Waterloo  was 
received  by  two  veterans  who  had  escaped  from  a  Russian  jail  :— 

Then  wept  the  two  old  Grenadiers 

To  conquered  France  returning — 
Said  one,  when  he  had  heard  the  news, 

*  How  my  old  wound  b  burning  1 ' 

*  Our  game  is  lost  I '  the  other  gioaned— 

*  I  would  that  I  were  dead ; 

But  I  have  wife  and  child  in  France^ 
And  they  must  still  be  fed  I ' 

*  Who  cares  for  wife  and  children  now  ?— 

Our  standards  are  forsaken  ! — 
Let  wife  and  children  go  and  beg-* 
The  Emperor  is  taken  ! ' 


430  OUTLINES  or  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

Among  many  young  students  who  served  as  volunteers  in  the 
war,  Erkst  Schvlze^  bom  at  Celle  in  1789,  is  remembered  as 
the  author  of  two  poems — *  Cacilia '  and  the  *  Enchanted  Rose ' — 
noticeable  chiefly  for  their  excellent  Tersification.  The  long  epic 
poem  first  named  contains  twenty  cantos,  all  written  to  im- 
mortalise the  memory  of  an  amiable  young  woman  who  died  at 
an  early 'age.  When  he  had  written  several  *  cantos,  Schulze 
found  his  health  declining,  but  a  new  interest  called  him  back 
to  life.  He  joined  a  regiment  of  volunteers  in  1814,  and,  during 
the  time  of  his  soldiership,  hardships,  field  exercises,  and  marches 
restored  cheerfulness  to  his  mind.  At  the  close  of  his  military 
excursion  he  returned  to  Gottingen,  and  devoted  himself  to  the , 
completion  of  his  '  Cacilia.'  During  his  last  illness  he  wrote  the 
poem  of '  The  Enchanted  Hose,'  which  is  a  good  specimen  of  the 
smoothness  and  ^egance  of  his  versification,  but  has  not  enough 
of  human  character,  adventure,  and  intereiist  to  attract  many 
readers.    Schulze  died  in  1817,  aged  twenty-nine  years. 

It  cannot  be  said  thal^  the  excitement  attending  the  War  of 
Liberation  had  any  permanent  good  infiuence  on  literature.  Hopes 
that  had  been  cherished  of  a  restored  empire,  or  of  a  republic, 
were  destined  soon  to  fade  away.  The  enthusiastic  students  of 
Jena,  at  their  WaHhargfeA  (1817),  made  an  attempt  to  assert 
national  unity,  at  least  in  the  universities ;  but  the  movement  was 
imkindly  suppressed,  and  such  patriots  as  Arndt,  Jahn^  and 
G5rres  were  harshly  treated  as  demagogues. 

The  policy  of  the  day  was  retrogressive,  and  literature  for  a 
time  followed  the  example  of  the  State.  The  plays  of  Werner  and 
Miillner  still  had  possession  of  the  stage ;  Hofiinann's  wild  and 
unwholesome  fictions  were  extensively  read,  and  the  leaders  of 
the  Romantic  School  recommended,  as  an  opiate,  the  study  of 
Hindoo  poetry.  In  doing  so,  they  were  following  Goethe,  who, 
when  deprived  of  Schiller^s  stimulating  friendship,  sought 
quietude  in  the  studies  of  physical  science,  art,  and  Oriental  poetry. 
It  was  a  natural  tendency  at  his  time  of  lif^ ;  but,  strange  to  say, 
his  example  was  followed  by  young  men.  A  want  of  all  strong 
interest  in  the  affairs  of  political  and  social  life  is  one  of  the 
privileges  of  age ;  but  it  was  out  of  place  in  Riickert  and  others, 
who  in  some  of  their  poems  adopted  the  quietism  and  pantheistic 
indifference;  as  weU  as  the  forms  and  metres,  of  Pereian  lyrical 
poetry. 


XXVIJ  RETROGKESSION.  431 

Meanwhile  seTeral  writers  of  the  later  Romantic  School  con- 
tinned  their  dreams  of  the  Middle  Ages,  But  the  inflaence  of 
these  writers  Was  not  popular.  They  were  accused  of  loving  an 
imaginatiye  quietism,  of  having  some  aristocratic  tendencies,  of 
forming  cliques  for  a  fair  exchange  of  adulation,  and  of  making 
for  themselves  idols  of  quietistic  art  and  poetry.  There  was 
some  truth  in  these  charges ;  hut,  on  the  other  side,  the  services 
of  the  Romantic  School  in  the  revival  of  German  archasology  and 
philology.  Oriental  literature,  and  literary  history  must  not  be  for- 
gotten. 

It  would  be  unjust  to  ascribe  to  the  tendencies  of  the  Romantic 
School  all  the  depression  and  retrogression  in  literature  and  in 
political  life  that  followed  the  War  of  Liberation.  We  have  seen 
that  neither  the  best  poetry  of  the  dasilfc  time,  nor  the  romantic 
poetry  that  followed,  fairly  represented  popular  literature.  That, 
unfortunately,  consisted  mostly  of  such  productions  as  Tiedge's 
dull  *  Urania,'  Mahlmann's  and  Muchler's  poems,  Eotzebue's  plays, 
and  Olauren's  novels.  Milliner  and  other  writers  of  the  deplorable 
'  fate-tragedies,'  and,  rather  later,  Raupach,  ruled  on  the  stage ; 
Van  der  Velde  and  Ilaring  supplied  a  large  demand  for  imitations 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  romances,  and  Zschokke,  already  named  as 
a  writer  of  sensational  fiction,  was,  at  a  later  time,  industrious 
in  writing  tales  of  a  utilitarian  and  homely  description,  which 
were,  at  least,  wholesome  antidotes  to  Clauren's  tales  and  Hoff- 
mann's morbid  fictions. 

Other  opponents  of  low  literature  had  good  motives,  but  no 
great  success.  Wilhelm  Haufi^,  who  ridiculed  Clauren's  manner, 
Karl  Spindler,  the  romancist,  and  a  few  other  names  might  be 
mentioned  as  exceptions  to  the  general  literary  dulness  of  the 
time  when  Ludwig  Uhland  and  his  friends  of  the  Suabian  School 
arose  and«gained  success  by  writing  poetry  that  was  at  once 
romantic,  national,  and  popular.  Uhland's  first  iinpuUe  came,  it 
must  be  remembered,  from  the  Romantic  School;  but  his  ten- 
dencies in  literature,  as  in  politics,  were  progressive  ajs  well  as 
national. 

JoHAiTN  Ltjdwig  IJHLAin)  was  bom,  in  1787,  at  Tiibingen,  where 
he  studied  law  an4  was  appointed  professor  of  German  literature 
ia  1829.  He  wajs  active  as  a  member  of  the  German  Parliament 
in  1848,  and  died  in  1862.  Hia  first  volume  of  poetry  (1815) 
was  very  successful,  and  soou  passed  through  several  editions. 


l32  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATITRE.  [Ch. 

In  bis  lyricftl  ballads  the  imaginative  scenery  of  old  times  was 
well  united  with  a  livipg  and  popular  interest.  His  dramas — 
'  Ernst,  Buke  of  Suabia '  and  *  Ludwig  the  Bavarian  ' — ^though 
founded  on  medieval  history,  avoid  errors  of  the  Romantic 
School,  but  cannot  be  classed  with  the  poet's  best  writings, 
Uhland's  contributions  to  the  literary  history  of  his  native  land 
include  an  excellent  collection  of  old  popular  songs  and  a  bio* 
graphy  of  the  Minnesinger  '  Walther  von  der  Vogelweide.' 

Uhland's  lyrical  and  lyrio-epic  poetry  tells  of  no  expansive  and 
eventful  life.  It  leads  us  into  a  picturesque  region  haunted  by 
knights  and  dames  in  mediesval  costumes ;  or  to  some  pleasant 
valleys  in  Suabia  inhabited  by  quiet,  honest  people,  dwelling 
among  their  gardens,  orchards,  flowers,  and  children.  The  preva- 
lent form  of  Uhland's  pdltry  is  lyric-epic ;  he  often  tells  a  story 
very  briefly,  suggests  its  appropriate  scenery,  and  expresses  well 
its  pervading  sentiment  It  is  one  of  his  merits  that,  without 
-writing  in  a  dull  didactic  strain,  he  can  suggest  some  wholesome 
thought  while  he  tells  a  stoxy.  Here  is  one  example — the  robber 
steps  out  of  the  forest  and  is  disarmed  by  the  aspect  of  inno- 
cence:— 

The  robber  chiefs  one  April  day, 
Looks  out  from  the  forest  dim ; 
Fear^eas,  on  her  woodland  way 
Walks  a  maiden  fair  and  slim. 

'  If,  instead  of  flowers  of  spring/ 

Said  the  forest-chieftain  wild, 
'  You  bore  the  jewels  of  a  king, 

Ton  should  pass  unhurt,  my  child  1 ' 

Then  he  gazed,  with  musing  face. 

While  the  Qiaiden,  with  a  song, 
Through  the  solitary  place 

To  her  hamlet  paced  along ; 

Till,  at  home,  amicL  the  bloom  « 

Of  her  garden-flowers  she  stood— 
Then  he  stepped  into  the  gloom 

Of  the  silent  fir-tree  wood. 

Another  short  poem,  consisting  of  but  a  few  simple  words^  may 
serve  as  an  example  of  the  writer's  pathos : — 

*  What  music  wakes  me  from  my  fleep  ? 

Mother,  who  can  they  be 
That,  in  the  night  so  dsrk  and  deep, 
Come  here  to  sing  for  me  ? ' 


XXVI.]  UHLAND.  433 


'I  nothing  hear,  I  nothing 

Tour  fancy  was  beguiled ; 
Thfsy  have  no  serenade  for  thee^ 

My  poor,  aflSkted  child  I ' 

It  18  no  earthly  music  this ! 

It  fills  me  with  delight  I 
The  angels  call  me  to  their  bliss— 
O  mother  dear,  good-night  I ' 

.  In  other  poems  Uhlaod  leads  his  readers  into  dream-land,  or  into 
the  weird  enchanted  forest,  where  *  Harald '  iat  transformed  into  a 
statue.  It  may  be,  that  the  tale  is  told  only  for  the  sake  of 
the  scenery;  or  the  poet  may  kint  that  warriors  who  have 
escaped  from  all  the  dangers  of  open  battle  may  be  overcome  in 
places  where  they  see  nothing  whatever  to  be  feared : — 

Before  his  warlike  company  rode  Harald,  hero  bold ; 

They  travelled  through  the  forest  wild,  in  moonlight  still  and  cold. 

m 

Their  banners,  won  in  many  a  fight,  were  waving  in  the  air; 

Their  battle-songs  were  echoed  back,  from  mountains  bleak  and  bare. 

Then  the  ballad  tells  how  all  the  company^  except  Harald| 
were  led  away  by  beautiful  elves  into  fairy-land.  Their  leader 
after  escaping  &om  one  snare,  falls  into  another.  He  stays  to 
drink  at  an  enchanted  fountain^  and,  as  soon  as  be  bas  quenched 
bis  thirsty  be  falls  into  a  deep  trance— 

And  there  he  sleeps,  upon  that  stone,    a  hundred  years  away— 
His  head  reclining  on  his  breast —    his  hair  and  beard  are  gray. 

When  lightnings  flash  and  thundns  roll,    and  all  the  woods  have  roared 
He  startles,  in  his  long,  long  dream,    and  grasps  his  idle  sword. 

Another  poem  that,  like  '  Harald/  may  be  called  mystic,  is  less 
obscure,  and,  if  fairly  translated,  would  be  a  good  specimen  of 
Uhland's  versification.  The  poet  wanders  far  into  a  forest,  where 
the  distant  tolling  of  bells  caUs  up  a  vision  of  'a  lost  churcb/  a 
secluded  sanctuary,  &r  away  from  all  sectarian  strife  :^> 

In  the  deep  forest,  far  away, 

The  wanderer  hears  the  sound  of  beHs : 
Whence  comes  the  music  who  can  say  ? 

For  scarcely  one  old  legend  teUs. 
It  cometh  from  the  old  church  gray 

That  lies  in  deep,  unbroken  dka^ 
Where  hundreds  went,  of  yore,  to  pray, 

Or  Joined  to  raise  the  holy  psalm.  ^  , 


434  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEEATURR  [Ch. 

I  went  into  the  wood  to  pray, 

From  every  path  I  wandered  wide; 
For  freedom  from  this  evil  day. 

For  rest  and  sanctity  I  sighed. 
The  music  from  the  ancient  tower 

Came,  soothing,  through  the  forest  air, 
And  rose  and  swelled  with  greater  power 

As  higher  rose  my  soul  in  prayer. 
•  •  •  •  ■ 

The  solemn  glory  of  the  shrine. 

As  at  the  altar-steps  I  kneeled — 
The  sounds  of  harmony  divine 

Can  never  be  in  words  revealed. 
He  who  would  learn  these  things  most  go 

Far  in  the  forest  lone  to  pray, 
And  follow  well  the  sounds  that  flow 

From  the  old  church-tower  far  away. 

Other  writers  of  the  Suabian  school  may  be  but  briefly  noticed, 
for  all  their  best  characteristics  are  found  in  Uhland*s  poetry. 

GusTAY  Schwab  (1792-1850)  was  the  pastor  of  a  church  at 
Stuttgart,  and,  by  his  prose  writings  as  well  as  hb  poetry, 
rendered  good  service  to  national  literature.  His  j^oems,  consists 
ing  mostly  of  songs  and  ballads,  are  national  and  Christian  in 
their  tone.  His  other  works  include  a  good  biography  of  Schiller, 
some  well-edited  anthologies  of  German  prose  and  verse,  and  a 
useful  bibliographical  guide  to  German  literature. 

It  is  only  with  regard  to  the  character  of  some  of  his  ballads 
and  lyrical  poems  that  another  Suabian,  Justin  us  Kerneb  (1786- 
1802)  should  be  classed  with  Uhland's  followers.  Kemer's  other 
writingiB,  in  prose  and  verse,  might  lead  us  too  far  into  the  region 
of  dreams  and  mysteries.  He  might  have  pretixed  to  one  of  his 
works  a  motto  from  an  old  Scottish  author — 

Of  brownies  and  of  bogles  fuU  is  this  buick. 

Kemer  was  a  physician  who  practised  at  Weinsberg  and  gained 
a  wide  reputation  as  a  writer  on  visionary  subjects.  But  he  wrote 
also  popular  songs,  several  spectral  and  dismal  ballads,  and  some 
humorous  fictions  in  prose.  One  of  his  books  has  the  alarming 
title,  '  Incursions  from  the  Ghostly  World  into  the  Sphere  of 
Human  Life ; '  another  gives  an  account  of  'the  Visionary  of  Pre- 
vorst' 

It  would  be  hardly  fair  to  select  from  Eemer*s  poems  a  stoiy 
having  no  unearthly  interest.  The  following  may  be  given  as 
one  of  the  least  dreadful  of  the  writer's  tales  of  apparitions : — 


XXVI.]  CHAMISSO.  435 

In  tbe  mild-beaming,  blossoming  month  of  May, 
The  maidens  of  TUbipgen  dance  and  play. 

They  danced  one  ere,  as  the  day  grew  pale, 
Bound  the  old  lUne  in  the  Neckar  vale. 

There  came  a  yonng  stranger,  proudly  arrayed. 
And  led  to  the  dance  the  fairest  maid. 

To  the  dance  as  the  maiden,  deep-blushing,  he  led^ 
A  sea-green  chaplet  he  placed  on  her  head. 


*  Young  stranger  I  oh  why  is  your  hand  so  white  ?  * 
—-In  the  water  tiie  sunbeams  lose  their  might. 

He  leads  down  the  dance,  far  away  from  the  tree : 
— '  List,  stranger  I  my  mother  is  calling  for  me.' 

He  leads  her  along  by  the  Neckar's  side — 
<  Oh  leave  me^  oh  leave  me ! '  the  maiden  cried. 

He  clasps  her,  and  presses  her  dose  to  his  side— 
'  Fair  maid !  thou  shalt  be  the  Water-sprite's  bride.' 

They  dance  till  they  come  to  the  Neckar's  brink — 
'  O  father  I  O  mother !  *  she  cries  as  they  sink.- 

To  his  hall  of  crystal  he  leads  her  pale — 
'Adieu  1  O  my  sisters  in  yonder  green  vale  I  * 

As  a  writer  of  melodious  and  popular  songs^  Wilhbiv  Mulleb 
(I794-I827)  was  one  of  the  best  of  all  Uhland's  numerous 
followers.  Still  higher  praise  might  be  given  to  the  earlier 
Ijrrical  poems  written  by  ATieTTST  Hsivrioh  HoFFHAinr,  who  was 
bom  at  Fallersleben  in  .1798.  His  later  writings  may  be  Noticed 
in  a  subsequent  chapter. 

There  was  a  latent  tendency  in  Uhland's  own  poems  to  give  to 
fiction  an  earnest  and  practical  tone,  and  this  led  to  the  political 
poetry  of  a  later  time.  It  is  chiefly  with  a  reference  to  this 
tendency  that  Ohamisso's  poems  may  be  here  noticed. 

In  literature,  as  in  his  life,  the  Frenchman,  Adalbibbt  yoit 
Ohamisso — ^who  not  only  thoroughly  mastered  the  German  lan- 
guage, but  almost  made  himself  a  German — stood  alone ;  though, 
on  account  of  his  dear  style,  his  tendency,  and  his  frequent  choice 
of  popular  subjects,  he  may  be  associated  with  Uhland  and  the 
other  Suabiaa  poets.    Ohamisso,  bom  in  1781,  waa  a  member  of 

ff2 


436  OUTLINES  OF  GEllMAN  LITERATUBB.  [Ch. 

the  old  and  aristocmtic  French  ^mily,  Chamiaso  de  Bonconrt, 
who  were  expelled  from  France  hy  the  reyoluiion  in  which  they 
lost  their  estates.  Adalhert,  when  only  nine  years  old,  emigrated 
with  his  parents,  and,  after  1797,  lired  with  them  in  Berlin,  where 
he  entered  the  Prussian  army.  He  accompanied  the  navigator 
Otto  von  Kotzehue  in  a  voyage  romid  the  world,  and,  subsequently, 
held  for  some  yea;?  an  appointment  at  the  Botanic  Garden  in 
Berlin,  where  he  died  in  1838.  Ilis  character  was  dignified  end 
amiable,  but  was  shaded  by  the  melancholy  that  finds  expression 
in  many  of  his  poems. 

Ghamisso  is  remarkably  versatile  in  his  choice  of  themes  and — 
like  Heine — can  tell  a  story  concisely ;  but  he  too  often  writes 
gloomy  tragedy,  as  in  '  the  Grudfix '  and  Matteo  Falcone.'  The 
tone  maintained  In  these  stories  is  strongly  contrasted  with  the 
gentle  and  sentimental  character  of  the  lyrical  poems  included 
under  the  title  lyauen^Liebe  und  Leben, 

'I  am  a  Frenchman  in  Germany,'  Ghamisso  once  said,  'a 
Gatholic  among  Protestants,  and  a  Protestant  among  Gatholics.' 
His  story  of  Peter  Schlemihl — *  the  man  who  lost  his  shadow  * — 
gives  expression  to  the  author^s  own  feeling  of  solitude.  Many 
readers  have  asked  what  could  be  intended  by  the  shadow.  Some 
have  said  that  it  represents  the  author's  native  land ;  others,  that 
it  indicates  the  superficial  advantages  on  which  success  in  society 
seems  often  to  depend.  The  loss  of  the  shadow  may,  we  think^ 
represent  any  unhappiness  that  leaves  a  man  alone  in  the  world. 
One  of  the  merits  of  the  story  is  its  artful  blending  of  a  fantastic 
adventure  with  a  serious  interest. 

The  hero  of  the  tale — Peter  Schlemihl — tells  us  how  he  sold 
his  own  shadow  for  an  inexhaustible  bag  of  money,  and  how  he 
found  out — when  it  was  too  late— that  serious  annoyances  fol- 
lowed this  remarkable  bargain : — 

<  <'  Done  I  "  said  I,  taking  the  bag : — '^  for  this  good  purse  you 
shall  have  my  shadow  1 "  The  man  in  the  gray  frock  instantly 
struck  the  bargain,  and  kneeling  down  before  me,  he,  with  ad- 
mirable dexterity,  rolled  up  my  shadow  from  head  to  foot  on  the 
grass,  then  took  it  up,  and  put  it  into  his  pocket.  As  he  walked 
away,  I  fancied  that  I  heard  him  inwardly  chuckling,  as  if  he  had 
outwitted  me,  but  I  never  realised  the  consequences  of  my  bargain 
before  it  was  done.  Now  I  stood,  astonished  and  bewildered,  in 
the  fUU  glace  of  sunshine,  and  without  a  shadow !    When  I  re- 


XXVI.]  CHAinSSO.  437 

covered  my  senses,  I  likastened  to  leav6  the  place.  Havbg  fiUed 
my  pockets  with  gold  piecesy  I  pat  the  cord  of  the  purse  roimd  my 
necky  and  hid  it  in  my  bosom.  Then  I  escaped  unnoticed  from 
the  park,  found  the  public  road,  and  walked  towards  the  town. 
I  was  lost  in  a  reverie  until  I  approached  the  gate,  when  I  heard 
a  scream  behind  me,  and  looking  round,  saw  an  old  woman,  who 
followed  me,  and  cried  out,  **  Why,  sir — sir,  you  have  lost  your 
shadow  1 "  I  was  really  obliged  to  the  old  dame  for  her  reminding 
me  of  my  case ;  so  I  threw  to  her  a  few  gold  pieces,  and  then 
stepped  into  the  deep  shade  under  some  trees.  But  when  I 
arrived  at  the  town-gate,  my  memory  of  the  strange  bargain  was 
again  refreshed  as  I  heard  the  sentry  mutter,  *'  Where  has  the 
gentleman  left  his  shadow  ?*'  As  I  hastened  along  the  street,  I 
passed  two  women,  one  of  whom  exclaimed, ''  Blessed  Mary,  pre- 
serve us !  that  man  has  no  shadow.*'  I  hastened  away  from  them, 
and  contrived  to  keep  under  the  shade  of  the  houses  until  I  came 
to  a  wide  part  of  the  street  which  I  must  cross  in  order  to  arrive 
air  my  lodgings ;  but,  most  unhappily,  just  as  I  passed  into  the 
broad  glare  of  the  sunshine,  a  day-school  was  turning  out  its 
orowd  of  unruly  boys,  and  a  wicked,  high-shouldered  little  imp  (I 
remember  him  well)  immediately  detected  my  imperfection.  ''Ha, 
ha ! "  he  shouted  maliciously,  ''here's  a  curiosity !  Men  generally 
have  shadows  when  the  sun  shines.  Look,  boys — ^look  at  the 
gentleman  with  no  shadow  I "  Enraged,  I  threw  about  me  a 
handful  of  money,  to  disperse  the  crowd  of  boys,  and  then  called 
a  hackney-coach,  into  which  1  leapt,  to  hide  myself  from  my 
fellow-creatures.' 

The  sentiment  of  solitude  that  gives  interest  to  fantastic  cir- 
cumstances in  Peter  Schkmihl  is  more  nobly  expressed  in  one  of 
the  writer's  best  narrative  poems — Solas  y  Gomez.  It  is  founded 
on  a  thought  that  occurred  to  his  mind  when  he  was  on  a  cruise 
in  the  South  Pacific  Ocean  and  in  sight  of  Solas  y  Oomee — ^a  bare 
precipitous  reef,  haunted  only  by  sea-fowl.  It  was  said  that 
some  fragments  of  a  wrecked  ship  had  been  found  on  the  reef,  and 
this  suggested  to  the  poet  the  image  of  a  solitary  man^  more 
unhappy  than  Crusoe— a  wretch  left  alone  on  that  bare  crag  and 
kept  alive  too  long  by  such  food  as  the  eggs  of  sea-birds  might 
supply.  His  transitions  of  feeling — ^from  grief  to  hope  and  from 
hope  to  despair — are  well  told : — A  sail  appears,  like  a  speck  upon 
the  line  where  tha  sky  and  the  sea  join ;  it  cornea  neaser  and  grows 


438  OUTLINES  07  GEBMAK  LTTEEATUBE.  [Ck. 

deiBTer;  but  soon  fades  away  from  the  strained  yuion  of  the 
solitary,  and  the  ocean,  the  sky,  the  wailing  sea-birds  are  once 
more  all  his  world.  Then  follows  his  deepest  despair ;  but  it  is, 
at  last)  transmuted  into  submission.  As  he  looks  up  to  the  con- 
stellation of  the  Southern  Cross,  shining  on  the  deep,  that  sign  of 
suffering  and  patience  suggests  to  him  these  thoughts  of  peace  and 
zedgnation : — 

The  tempest  that  within  me  nved  has  passed ; 
Here,  ivhere  so  long  IVe  suffered — all  alone — 
I  will  lie  down  in  peace  and  breathe  my  last. 

Let  not  another  sail  come  near  this  stone 
Until  all  sighs  and  tears  have  paased  away ! 
Why  should  I  long  to  go^a  man  unknown — 

To  see  my  childhood's  home,  and  there  to  stray. 
Without  a  welcome  or  kind  look,  and  find 
That  all  my  dear  old  friends  are  'neath  the  day  ? 

Lord  I  by  thy  grace,  my  soul — to  Thee  resigned — 
Let  me  breathe  forth  in  peace,  and  let  me  sleep 
Here,  where  thy  Cross  shines  calmly  o*er  the  deep. 

BsBNBABD  Gabys  and  JoHAinfr  Baptist  ton  Albebtist,  both 
members  of  the  church  of  the  United  Brethren,  and  Albebt  Ejtapp, 
a  pastor  at  Stuttgart,  should  be  mentioned  here  as  writers  of 
religious  lyrical  poetry  in  which  piety  and  good  taste  are  com- 
bined. 

In  Dramatic  Literature  no  great  progress  was  made,  but  some 
improvement  took  place  when  Milliner's  disgraceful  ^fate-tragedies ' 
were  followed  by  the  productions  of  an  industrious  playwright 
named  Ebnst  Benjamik  Haufach  (1784-1862),  who  wrote, 
beside  other  plays,  a  cyclus  of  sixteen  dramas,  all  founded  on  the 
history  of  the  Hohenstaufen  Emperors.  .  The  merits  of  Kaupach's 
plays  are  theatrical  rather  than  dramatic. 

Such  plays  were,  however,  preferable  to  the  crude  dramatic 
poems  written  by  Dibtbioh  Chbistian  Gbabbe  (1801-36),  whose 
life  was  as  wild  as  his  dramas.  They  attracted  notice  by  some 
.  energetic  passages  of  imaginative  declamation,  but  repelled  readers 
who  cared  for  good  taste.  The  title  of  one  of  Grabbe's  works, 
'  Don  JCian  and  Faust,'  may  indicate  its  character,  and  a  few  lines 
may  show  that  the  author  could  here  and  there  write  poetry: — 

The  day  is  wonderfully  beautiful  I 
Bome's  old  gray  roins  glisten  in  the  light 
Like  spirits  glorified.    Such  autrmin  days 
Are  only  seen  at  Borne.    Like  the  old  Romany 


XXVI.]  IMMEBHANK.  439 

These  fields  in  purple  robes  of  victoiy 
Clothe  themselves  ere  the^  die. 

In  the  South  of  Germany  the  dramatic  works  of  Febdin^kb 
Kaiuunb  (1790-1836)  and  Joseph  von  Auffenbebq  (1798-1867) 
had  considerahle  success.  The  former  skilfully  combined  some 
traits  of  actual  life  with  his  plots,  which  were  founded  on  old 
popular  stories  and  fairy  tales. 

Another  dramatic  writer,  Kabl  Lebbecht  Ihmebhavn  (1796- 
1840),  though  possessing  a  truly  poetic  genius,  failed  remarkably 
in  his  attempts  to  write  for  the  stage.  His  ineffectiye  dramas, 
Cardenio  und  Celinde,  Kaiser  Friedrioh  II.,  and  Alexis,  were 
followed  hy  a  dida8tic  work  in  prose-fiction — Die  Epigonen — and, 
rather  later,  by  a  far  better  romance,  MUnchhausefi,  which  is  the 
author's  best  work.  It  is  subject,  however,  to  a  justly  severe 
criticism ;  for  it  divides  itself  into  two  parts,  which  have  no  true 
union.  In  the  first  part  we  have  an  extreme  caricature  of  vain, 
idle,  and  dissolute  life  at  the  ruinous  old  baronial  castle  of  Schmch' 
Schnack'Schnurry  which  is  inhabited  by  the  friends  of  Munch- 
hattsen — a  descendant  fronl  the  notoriously  mendacious  baron  of 
the  same  name.  In  the  other  part  of  the  romance,  we  have  a 
pleasant  idyll  founded  on  scenes  from  peasant-life  in  Westphalia 
which  is  described  in  a  tone  of  genial  delight  and  is  placed  in 
strong  contrast  with  the  so-called  '  high  life '  at  the  castle.  At 
last,  the  caricature  and  the  rural  romance  are  united,  but  in  a  most 
unartistic  mode.  ^  Lisbeth,'  the  heroine  of  the  idyll,  is  discovered 
to  be  the  daughter  of  the  &aron  Miinchhausen. 

Immermann's  successful  story  of  rural  life  in  Westphalia  gave 
a  new  impulse  to  popular  fiction,  and  was  followed  by  a  series  of 
tales  of  the  peasantry. 

To  conclude  this  chapter — ^it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  general 
latent  tendency  of  Uhland  and  his  followers  was  to  give  to  poetry 
a  social,  popular,  and  political  interest.  This  was,  afterwards,  more 
clearly  expressed  in  the  popular  fictions  above  referred  to,  and  in 
other  depnrtments'of  poetical  literature* 


440  OUTLU^ES  Of  GEBMA27  LITEBATUBE.  [Ch.  ^ 


CHAPTER  XXVn. 

SEVENTH  PERIOD.    1770-1880. 

aOXTKB*S  1ATB8T  W0BK8 — BUCXBBT — VLAMS — BBIKS. 

The  literary  productions  of  Goetbe*8  youth  (1768-79)  and  the 
best  works  of  his  manhood,  or  middle  life  (1779-1810)  have  been 
noticed.  We  have  still  to  mention  soipe  of  the  more  important 
works  which  were  either  entirely  or  partly  written  by  Goethe  in 
the  time  of  his  old  age  (1810-32).  If  we  had  placed  together  all 
our  notices  of  his  works,  the  arrangement  would  have  failed  to 
represent  the  long  interval  existing  between  the  first  and  the 
latest.  A  short  time  before  his  death  he  ascended  the  heights 
near  Jena,  and  thence  looked  forth  into  the  free  expanse  of  sky ; 
then  down  on  the  well-loved  landscape.  Of  all  the  friends  whom 
in  his  youth  he  had  known  in  the  valleys  of  the  Hm  and  the 
Saale,  how  few  were  surviving  I — *  I  feel  well  here/  said  Goethe ; 
and  he  added — forgetting  that  he  was*  nearly  eighty  years  old — 
^  we  will  often  come  up  here  again ! '  That  good  resolution  was 
not  fulGlIed. 

Goethe  lived  so  long,  that  he  was  acquainted  with  three  genera- 
tions of  literary  men.  The  poet,  who  knew  the  once-dreaded 
Leipzig  critic  (Gottsched),  was  Schiller's  friend,  and  lived  to  hear 
such  young  men  as  Platen,  Heine,  and  Ebert,  talked  of  as  rising 
poets.  During  the  Seven  Years'  War,  Goethe  was  studying 
French  and  drawing ;  he  was  writing  autobiography  and  poetry 
during  the  War  of  Liberation,  and  he  was  studying  zoology  when 
the  July  Revolution  of  1830  occurred.  The  author  who  read 
Goldsmith's  poems  soon  after  their  first  publication,  and  who  was 
writing  good  lyrical  poetry  when  Burns  died  and  when  Words- 
worth was  so  despised  by  the  Edinburgh,  reviewers,  lived  so  long 
that  he  might  have  read  Mr.  Tennyson's  first  volume  of  poems, 
published  in  1830. 


XXVII.]  'WILHELM  MEISTER.*  441 

It  is  obyions  tbat  it  would  be  impossible  to  notice  here  all  the 
later  writiDgs  of  an  author  whose  career  was  as  remarkable  for 
industry  as  for  duration.  He  wrote,  during  the  ten  years  1810- 
20— beside  the  '  West-East  Divan '  (already  noticed)  and  several 
contributions  to  the  literature  of  physical  science,  of  art,  and  of 
archsBology — an  account  of  an  '  Italian  Journey '  and  a  part  of  the 
Wanderjahr$.  In  1820-80  he  continued  his  contributions  to  his 
journal  for  'Art  and  Antiquity,'  made  some  additions  to  his 
autobiography,  and  completed  the  WanderjahrB,  During  the  last 
two  years  of  his  life  he  completed  the  Second  Part  of  Fauat, 

The  more  important  of  Goethe's  later  contributions  to  general 
literature  which  still  remain  to  be  noticed  are  his  Social  Romances; 
including  the  Wah^verwandUchafien  (^Elective  Affinities')  and 
Wilhelm  Meistef^s  Lehrjakre  and  Wanderjahre,  Of  the  first- 
named  of  these  works  (which  was  written  in  1808-9)  it  may  be 
enough  to  say  here  that,  while  the  author's  want  of  reserve  in 
the  treatment  of  the  details  of  unhappy  marriage  has  been 
condemned,  it  must  be  admitted  that  his  general  aimis  to  assert 
the  authority  of  law  over  passion.  In  an  artistic  point  of  view, 
this  has  been  described  as  the  author's  best  work  in  prose-fiction. 

Wilhelm  Meiater*8  Lehrfahre  ('  Wilhelm  Meister's  Apprentice- 
ship '),  a  romance  with  a  didactic  tendency,  was  written,  with 
many  interruptions,  in  the  course  of  the  years  1777-96.  Though 
written  during  the  author's  middle  age,  the  work  may  be  noticed 
here  in  connection  with  its  sequel.  The  title  Lehrfahre  prefixed 
to  the  romance  refers  to  the  law  of  apprenticeship  in  the  old 
Zunfte  (or  '  trade  companies  *),  as  the  tiUe  Wanderjdhre  (years  of 
travel),  in  the  sequel,  refers  to  the  old  trade-rule,  that  a  journey- 
man must  spend  some  years  in  travelling  and  working  under  seveiid 
masters  before  he  could  be  admitted  as  a  master  in  his  trade. 

Wilhelm  Meister  begins  life  with  ideal  expectations,  writes 
poetry — and  wishes  to  cultivate  art  apart  from  all  the  cares  and  the 
duties  of  practical  life.  In  a  fit  of  dejection  he  bums  all  his 
poems  and,  at  once,  resolves  to  employ  his  talents  in  commerce. 
But  his  purposes  are  easily  changed  by  accidents  and  circumstances ; 
he  becomes  acquainted  with  the  members  of  a  company  of  strolling 
players,  joins  them,  and  finds  a  painful  contrast  between  his  own 
ideal  notions  of  the  drama  and  the  realities  of  an  actor's  life.  In  this 
part  of  the  story  several  characters  are  distinctly  drawn  and  well 
contrasted ;  but  the  narrative  is,  here  and  there,  interrupted  by 
dramatic  criticism  and  other  didactic  passages. 


n 


442  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEBATUBE.  [Ck. 

The  training  received  by  Wilhelm  during  his  apprenticeship  is 
by  no  means  given  in  a  direct  didactic  form,  bat  is  often  rather 
implied  than  expressed.  His  education  is  placed  under  the 
superintendence  of  a  mysterious  Union,  or  Brotherhood,  whose 
members  meet  Wilhelm  from  time  to  time,  and  afford  some 
guidance  to  his  career.  Their  teaching  is  less  clear  than  such  as 
we  find  in  the  WaAderjahre^  but  indicates  the  doctrine  that  a 
true  education  should  embrace  the  whole  character  of  a  man,  and 
not  only  one  or  two  of  his  talents.  The  hero  is  found,  however, 
at  the  close  of  his  apprenticeship  and  after  all  the  training  that  he 
has  received,  still  so  weak  and  vacillating,  that  he  hardly  seems 
deserving  of  all  the  attention  that  has  been  bestowed  on  his 
education.  His  want  of  success. in  art  has  le^  some  readers  to  sup* 
pose  that  the  author's  purport  was  to  show  how  useless  teaching 
must  be,  when  bestowed  on  a  man  destitute  of  genius.  Thia 
merely  negative  tendency,  however,  will  not  agree  with  the  purport 
of  the  Wandeijahre—tYi^  sequel  to  Meister's  Apprenticeship. 

Some  of  the  stories  inserted  in  this  sequel  were  written  as  early 
as  in  1806 ;  but  the  whole  was  not  completed  until  1821.  Goethe 
reconstructed  this  work  in  1829,  when  he  was  eighty  years  old. 
The  romance  may  be  regarded  as  intended  to  serve  as  a  frame 
inclosing  the  author's  latest  views  of  society  and  education,  which 
are  interspersed  with  several  episodes.  The  narrative  is  thua 
broken  into  fragments,  but  the  work  is  still  interesting,  for  it 
contains  views  of  society  that  may,  perhaps,  be  called  prophetic 
Goethe  anticipated  the  social  questions  of  the  present  times,  and 
pointed  for  their  solution  to  free  but  well-organised  educational 
and  co-operative  institutions  such  as  still  belong  to  the  future,  k. 
free  union  of  work,  religion  and  intellectual  culture  is  the  ideal  of 
a  complete  education,  as  it  is  described  in  the  more  important 
sections  of  the  Wanderfahre, 

The  lover  of  light  fiction  will  not  find  delight  in  these  'Years 
of  Travel.'  Their  interest  depends  mostly  on  a  few  pervading 
thoughts.  Nature  (as  Goethe  teUs  us)  will  tolerate  no  omissions 
of  duty.  We  must  not  avoid  ^  the  lowlier  duties  of  life,'  and  soar 
away  to  enjoy  high  art  Another  doctrine  is  implied  in  the 
book,  namely,  that  the  question  of  improved  relations  between 
capital  and  labour  is  eminently  a  moral  and  educational  question. 
These  are  the  most  importaiit  thoughts  in  what  we  may  call  tha 
more  speculative  part  of  the  '  Years  of  Travel.' 


XXVn.]  'DIE  WANDEEJAHRB/  443 

We  are  there  introduced  to  an  educational  and  industrial  Utopia 
where  a  solution  is  found  of  problems  still  connected  with  property 
and  labour,  co-operation,  the  results  of  machinery,  and  plans  of 
emigration  that  are  still  unsettled.  Capital  is  described,  at  once, 
as  a  common  fund  and  as  property,  and  its  holders  are  called 
stewards.  In  the  Utopia  planned  by  Goethe,  labour  is  educated 
and  organised,  while  the  old  guild  laws  for  apprentices,  journey- 
men, and  masters  are  reTived  with  some  modifications  of  their 
details.  Education  i^  made  physical  as  well  as  mental  and 
religious,  and  is  founded  on  'the  three  reverences;'  the  first 
having  a  regard  to  the  supernatural  world,  the  second  respecting 
the  world  placed  in  subjection  to  man,  and  the  third  expressing 
itself  in  the  social  relations  of  men.  The  future  dignity  of 
educated  and  co-operative  labour  is  predicted  in  the  idyll  of 
the  modem  'Joseph  the  Carpenter '  and  his  family,  and  a  co- 
operative society  of  weavers  is  described  at  great  length  and  with 
many  minute  detuls.  It  seems  strange  to  find  the  author  of 
'  Faust '  writing  of  the  culture  of  potatoes.  He  gives  a  warning 
against  dependence  for  food  on  these  uncertain  tubers,  but  does 
not  rail  against  them  as  Cobbett  did.  It  is  noticeable  that 
Goethe's  warning  was  written  eighteen  years  before  the  potato 
famine  of  1847. 

'  Some  of  the  views  on  art  expressed  in  the  Wanderjahre  may 
also  excite  surprise.  Goethe  will  have  no  theatres  and  no  players 
tolerated  in  his  Utopia ;  but  vocal  music  is  ^  be  generally  culti- 
vated, and  is  used  as  a  means  of  stimulating  a  cheerful  industry. 

The  religion  of  this  Utopia  is  described  as  a  liberal  and  practical 
exposition  of  Christianity — something  like  what  is  mysteriously 
indicated,  rather  than  explained,  in  Die  Oeheimnisse,  an  unfinished 
poem  written  by  Goethe  in  1786.  The  institution  of  the  day  of 
rest  in  every  week  is  preserved ;  but  worship  is  free. 

The  Co-operative  Utopia  has  a  strict  system  of  police.  Taverns 
and  circulating  libraries  are,  like  theatres,  abolished.  The  land 
is  not  demoralised  by  a  standing  army ;  but  drill  is  an  important 
part  of  education,  and  every  man  is  trained  to  fight  in  his  own 
defence.  Neither  bells  nor  drums  are  tolerated,  but  companies  of 
working-men  are  summoned  to  their  labour  by  the  harmonious 
sounds  of  wind  instruments.  Lastly,  a  Union  is  formed  for  the 
promotion  and  regulation  of  a  free  and  extensive  Emigration,  well 
supported  by  capital,  labour^  and  good  organisation.    Like  the 


444  OUTLINES  OF  GERBiAN  LITERATURE.  [Ce, 

labotuera  who  stay  at  home  the  free  oompames  of  industrial  emi- 
grants, who  go  forth  to  America,  are  enoooraged  by  hopefiil 
song.    Here  is  one  stanza  from  '  The  Song  of  the  EmigSADta ' :— * 

Stay  not  here,  as  if  fast  bonnd  I 

Boldly  ventare,  freely  roam ; 
Labour's  hand,  on  foreign  growu^ 

Soon  shall  make  another  home. 
Enterprise,  onr  cares  dispelling, 

Leaids  us  fiur  as  shines  the  sun ; 
This  wide  world  is  all  our  dweUing, 

And  has  treasures  to  be  won. 

The  works  already  mentioned  by  no  means  represent  the  whole  of 
~Goethe*s  literary  activity  i  but  our  limits  will  aUow  us  only  to  note 
Tory  briefly  his  numerous  and  valuable  contributions  to  esthetic 
criticismy  his  endeavours  to  promote  an  international  literary 
union,  and  his  researches  in  several  departments  of-  phyrical 
science.  His  extensive  correspondence  must  alao  be  at  least 
mentioned,  as  supplying  important  aids  towards  every  attempt 
made  to  estimate  fairiy  his  own  character  and  that  of  the  times  in 
which  he  lived.  Of  several  reports  of  his  conversations  with 
friends,  the  well-known  work  by  John  Pe1»r  Eckermann  may  be 
noticed  as  the  most  interesting.  It  contains  reports  of  convexaa- 
tions  with  Goethe  during  the  last  nine  years  of  his  life — &om 
September  1822  to  a  few  days  before  March  22,  1882,  when 
Goethe  di^,  at  noon,  in  his  eighty-third  year. 

In  any  attempt  to  estimate  briefly  the  value  of  Gkmthe'a 
writings — more  partfcularly  his  poetical  worka — ^we  might  notice^ 
chiefly,  either  their  excellence  aa  works  of  art,  or  their  extent 
and  variety,  or,  laatiy,  their  general  moral  and  social  tendencies. 
Instead,  however,  of  adding  anything  to  the  abundance  of  criti- 
cism  already  written  on  theiae  subjects,  we  would  simply  notice 
here  one  grand  characteristic  of  Goethe  and  his  works.  Hia 
genius  was  expansive,  conciliatory,  and  unitive  in  the  highest 
degree.  He  was  one  of  the  least  abstract  or  insular  of  all  the 
literary  men  of  all  nations  and  of  all  times.  There  was,  indeed^ 
hardly  any  one  department  of  life  or  thought— excepting  al- 
ways mean  party  politics,  polemic  theology,  and  abstruse  metap- 
physics — that  was  excluded  from  the  range  of  his  sympathies  and 
studies. 

Whatever  may  be  said  by  men  of  sdenoe  .of  the  value  of 
Goethe's  researches  in  physicid  science,  his  healthftil  and  reverent 


XSVn.]  GOETHE.  445 

• 

love  of  nature  was  one  of  the  fineet  traits  in  his  character.  In 
his  descriptions  of  human  nature  as  it  is,  he  incuired  censure  by 
that  want  of  exclusion  and  reserve  to  which  we  liave  alreadj 
referred  as  a  common  characteristic  of  literature  in  the  time  when 
Gk>ethe  passed  his  youth.  It  must  be  freely  admitted  that  he 
never  entirely  forgot  all  the  tendencies  of  that  age.  He  was  a 
naturalist,  and  could  not  write  in  the  abstract  and  '  diy-as-dust ' 
style,  eithtf  of  surrounding  nature  or  the  human  life  in  which 
that  nature  is  summarised. 

Severe  censures  have  been  lavished  on  Goethe  for  his  indifference 
with  regard  to  the  contentions  of  political  factions,  and  to  the 
respective  merits  of  several  mere  dead  forms  of  government.  It 
is,  at  least,  probable  that  his  thoughts^  were  employed  on  more 
important  subjects.  He  had  a  prevision  of  a  coming  time  so 
closely  occupied  with  social  questions  and  reformations  as  to  find 
hardly  any  leisure  for  the  study  of  abstract  politics,  or  for  the 
strategy  of  factions.  He  foresaw,  and  not  without  gloomy  fore- 
bodings, the  character  of  the  age  in  which  we  are  living,  and, 
accordingly,  his  later  writings — ^particularly,  his  social  romances 
'—consist  partly  of  studies  on  the  prospects  of  society. 

If  he  refused  to  meddle  with  barren  party  politics,  he  en- 
deavoured, on  the  other  hand,  to  unite  literature  with  practical 
social  interests.  In  the  Wanderjahre — one  of  the  least  finished 
works,  in  an  artistic  point  of  view — he  suggests,  as  we  have  seen, 
a  vifflon  of  the  future — a  dream,  perhaps,  it  must  be  called — of 
a  poetry,  not  printed  on  paper,  but  having  for  its  words  or  symbols 
industrious  men  and  women  and  theur  well-trained  children.  It 
is  a  theory  of  music,  having  for  its  chords  free  educational  and 
industrial  unions,  in  which  all  our  lamentable  divisions  and  con- 
tentions of  classes  shall  be  abolished  for  ever.  It  may  be  only  a 
dream  \  but  it  is  the  dream  of  a  widely  sympathetic  mind« 

Of  Goethe's  religious  principles,  neither  an  exposition  nor  a  de- 
fence can  be  here  given )  but  it  may  be  observed  that  they  were 
neither  negative  nor  polemical,  but  unitive  and  conciliatory. 
The  general  notion  implied  in  some  of  his  writings,  of  a  future 
union  of  some  form  of  Christianity  with  Hellenism,  may  be 
understood  in  a  very  shallow  sense,  so  as  to  appear  merely  absurd ; 
but  it  admits  a  higher  interpretation,  as  a  theory  demanding  the 
harmonious  culture  of  both  soul  and  body. 

To  estimate  the  aartistic  excellence  of  Goethe's  poetry  we  may 


446  OUTHNES  OF  0EBMAK  LITEBATUBE.  [Cb. 

• 
employ  Hegel's  rule — ^that  tlie  yalae  of  a  work  of  art  rises,  firstly, 

in  the  ratio  as  its  thought  is  more  deep  or  comprehensiye,  and^ain 
in  the  ratio  as  that  thought  is  more  poetically  and  vividly  ex- 
pressed. When  judged  by  this  rule,  not  only  such  a  drama  as 
'Iphigenia' and  such  an  idyll  as  'Hermann  and  Dorothea/  but 
several  of  Goethe's  baUads  and  lyrical  poems  must  be  described 
as  excellent  works  of  poetic  art. 

Among  literaiy  men  who  gained  reputations  during  the  last 
ten  or  twelve  years  of  Goethe*s  life,  we  must  name  here  three 
poetical  writers  who^  while  differing  widely  in  their  tendencies, 
were  alike  in  this — that  they  all  contributed  their  aid  to  the 
culture  of  an  artistic  style  of  poetry.  The  writers  to  whom  we 
refer  are  Ruckebt,  Platen,  and  Heine. 

Fbisdrigh  Rx7Ce:ert  (1780-1866^  studied  at  Jena,  and,  in  hia 
youth,  wrote  the  *  Sonnets  in  Armour,'  and  other  patriotic  poems 
already  referred  to  (ante,  Chapter  XXVI.).  He  was  for  some  years 
professor  of  oriental  languages  at  Erlangen.  His  chief  writings 
include  *  Love's  Springtime,'  a  series  of  lyrical  poems  highly  com- 
mended for  their  melody  and  purity  of  sentiment;  numerous  and 
excellent  translations  of  oriental  poetry,  and  a  very  long  didactic 
poem  (or  rather  a  series  of  Alexandrine  verses)  entitled  '  The  Brah- 
man's Wisdom.'  Riickert's  epic  poetry  (of  which  Sodent  und 
Suhrab  is  a  specimen)  has  some  fine  passages  here  and  there,  but 
is  inferior  to  his  best  lyrical  productions.  His  dramas  '  Saul  and 
David,' '  Herod  the  Qreat,'  and  others,  may  be  fairly  described  as 
failures. 

HircKEBT  wrote  the  most  melodious  verse  to  be  found  within  the 
compass  of  German  poetry,  yet  he  wrote  also  some  of  the  most 
prosaic  pieces  in  verse.  A  great  part  of  his  '  Brahman's  Wisdom' 
consists  of  nothing  better  than  mere  preaching  or  uttering  strings 
of  proverbs  in  rhyme,  but  the  prevalent  didactic  strain  is,  here 
and  there,  relieved  by  some  significant  oriental  story  or  legend, 
told  in  a  pleasing  style.  Riickert's  translations  from  oriental 
poets  have  been  highly  prtdsed  by  the  most  competent  critics.  In 
his  translations  from  Jellaleddin  Rumi  and  several  other  Persian 
poets,  we  find  not  only  the  sense  of  the  original,  but  the  metre, 
the  rhyme  or  assonance,  and  the  mannerism  of  the  oriental  poet, 
all  clearly  represented  as  if  in  a  mirror. 

Riickert's  poetical  merits  are  hardly  to  be  foimd  concentrated 
in  a  few  verses,  or  even  in  any  few  poems,  but  are  rather  seen  in 


XXVn.]  BtJCKERT.  447 

the  wide  extent  of  his  cultuie.  He  has  a  perfect  command  of 
language,  and  the  versification  of  his  best  lyrical  poems  is  so  fluent 
and  musical,  that  it  cannot  be  fairly  expressed  in  a  translation. 
The  following  lines  give,  in  the  form  of  a  paraphrase^  the  import 
of  a  passage  in  Biickert^  sketch  of  an  ideal  dtj,  or  a  poet*s 
Utopia.  There,  he  says,  the  fine  arts — music,  painting,  and 
poetry — shall  find  their  home : —       * 

Not  dwell  in  dull  seclusion  lone, 
But  in  the  streets  and  round  the  throne, 
As  friends  of  every  one,  shall  stand 
And  throw  their  magic  o'er  the  land. 
*  And  not  to  please  a  pedant's  taste 

The  artist  shall  his  labour  waste, 
But  in  the  people's  gladden'd  eyes 
Find  his  labour's  richest  prize. 
There  shall  music's  temple  rise 
And  fill  with  harmony  the  skies, 
And  palaces  where  art  divine 
flakes  eaith  in  heavenly  colours  shine. 
The  poets  shall  not  tell  their  tales 
To  moonlit  woods  and  nightingales, 
Nor  give  the  cheerful  lyric  strain 
To  old-world  fables  dull  and  vain, 
Of  knights  and  saints  in  ancient  days, 
Nor  fill  with  idle  dreams  their  lays ; 
But  in  the  city  bards  shall  dwell. 
By  king  and  people  honoured  well* 
And  poetry,  no  idle  art, 
Shall  cheer  the  universal  heart. 

Biickert  and  Platen  were  alike  in  three  respects : — ^both  wrote 
with  a  tendency  to  introduce  a  political  school  of  poetry;  and 
both  were  generally  veiy  careful  students  of  versification;  We 
regret  to  add,  as  the  third  common  trait,  that  both  were  remark- 
able for  their  indulgence  in  the  luxury  of  self-laudation.  Riickert's 
self-complacency  is  amusing;  Platen's  is  stem  or  defiant,  and 
implies  a  contempt  for  many  of  his  contemporaries.  In  two  or 
three  of  his  poems,  he  speaks  as  proudly  as  Horace  in  the  ode 
beginning  with  Sxegi  monumevium. 

Platen  owes  his  fame  more  to  the  beauty  of  his  versification 
than  to  the  vigour  or  originality  of  his  thoughts.  Several  of  his 
best  poems  are  like  ancient  statues,  classical,  cold^  and  pale.  He 
could  gracefully  bend  his  mother-tongue  to  the  metres  of  Horace ; 
but  could  not  move  the  feelings  of  the  people.  Yet  Platen, 
though  deficient  in  original  invention  and  popular  purpose,  wins 


448  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Cta. 

our  favour  by  his  taste  and  elegance;  qualities  too  rare  in  these 
days  of  hasty  writing. 

Max  Gbav  yok  PLATBN>HAi.LEBHinn>E  was  bom  at  Ansbach 
in  1796.  Though  titled,  his  family  was  not  wealthy,  and,  in 
accordance  with  his  father's  wishes,  fhe  young  count  entered 
into  the  military  service — an  ungenial  school  for  a  mind  whose 
greatest  delight  was  found  in  the  elegance  of  classical  literature. 
He  was  soon  weary  of  the  army's  discipline,  and  went  to  pursue 
his  favourite  studies  at  the  University  of  Wiirzburg.  Soon 
afterwards  he  removed  to  Erlangen,  where  he  listened  to  the 
poetical  philosophy  of  Schelling,  and  became  the  friend  of  the 
poet  Kiickert.  The  result  of  this  friendship  was,  that  Platen 
began  to  write  verses  in  the  oriental  strain  then  fashionable. 

These  oriental  poems  are  less  remarkable  than  Platen's  fine 
imitations  of  the  spirit  and  style  of  the  old  classic  poets,  especially 
Horace.  We  ought  hardly  to  call  it  imitation,  it  was  something 
more ;  be  threw  off  his  German  nature  and  modern  style,  and  not 
only  wrote  elegantly  in  the  metres,  but  in  the  very  spirit  of  his 
ancient  models.  As  in  literature  he  left  Germany  and  seemed 
to  live  in  Rome,  he  determined  to  realise,  bodily  as  well  as  in- 
tellectually, his  classical  ideas,  and  accordingly  went  to  Italy. 
After  this  he  had  little  to  say  in  favour  of  his  Fatherland.  Italy 
was  the  land  of  life  and  poetry ;  Germany  was  the  land  of  dull^ 
prosaic  routine  and  soul-burdening  studies.  In  shorty  Platen  was 
wholly  seized  veith  that  enthusiastic  love  of  the  warm  blue  South 
which  carries  so  many  northern  youths  from  Sweden,  Denmark, 
and  Germany  to  Home  and  Naples.  It  may  be  observed  how 
much  easier  it  is  to  yield  to  the  fosdnations  of  the  South,  and 
celebrate  its  climate  and  scenery,  than  to  master  and  convert  into 
poetry  the  less  pleasing  but  more  energetic  life  of  the  people  of 
the  North.  In  the  South  Platen  wrote  one  of  his  most  consider- 
able  poems,  the  '  Abassiden,'  a  long  story,  full  of  oriental  fantasies 
from  the  '  Arabian  Nights.' 

Platen,  as  far  as  possible,  threw  off  his  German  nature^  and 
gave  his  poetry  to  southern  and  classical  themes.  On  his  second 
visit  to  Italy,  he  lived  three  years  at  Naples,  and  described  the 
lively  scenes  of  '  Soft  Parthenope.'  On  the  death  of  his  father 
he  returned  into  Germany,  and  resided  a  while  at  Munich,  where 
he  wrote  an  historical  drama ;  but  his  native  country  was  now  no 
home  for  him^  and  he  spoke  of  it  in  a  very  uncomplimentary 
style :—  * 


XXVn.]  PLATEN.  449 

Trae,  there  are  some  advantages  at  home — 
State-honours,  dull  respectability, 
And  a  great  load  of  learning  I 

• 
PJaten  died,  and  was  buried  in  Sicily,  in  I8S5. 
One  part  of  the  poet's  duty  this  writer  fulfilled  well;  lie  gave 
to  his  productions  the  highest  finish  and  polish.    In  his  choice 
of  language  he  exercised  the  care  and  patience  of  a  lapidary : 
hence  some  of  his  poems  may  be*likened  to  the  pebble- 
When,  cat  by  art,  and  polished  with  nice  care, 
Vdns  it  discorers,  beautiful  and  rare, 
Which  for  the  loss  of  that  moist  gleam  atone 
That  tempted  first  to  gather  it. 

Platen's  lyrical  poems  include  several  odes,  hymns,  and  sonnets, 
which,  with  respect  to  their  versification,  may  be  classed  with  the 
best  in  the  German  language.  The  '  Venetian  Sonnets '  are  re- 
markably elegant  In  several  dramatic  poems,  including  the 
'  Fatal  Fork '  already  noticed^  the  author  misemployed  his  talents 
in  writing  long  parodies  of  some  oddities  found  in  the  works  of  the 
Bomantic  School.  The  '  Komantic  CEdipus,'  which  is  the  best 
of  these  dramatic  parodies,  was  intended  to  serve  as  a  satire  on 
the  plays  of  Immermann  and  Raupach,  and  on  the  eccentricities  of 
some  inferior  Writers. 

As  examples  of  Platen's  skill  in  the  use  of  antique  classic  metres, 
his  ode  on  '  Florence,'  the  '  Invitation  to  Sorrento,'  and  an  address 
'  to  Marco  Saradni '  may  be  mentioned.  From  another  poem  of  * 
this  class,  'The  Pyramid  of  Cestius,'  (a  well-known  monument  in 
the  Roman  burial-ground  for  heretics),  two  or  three  strophes  may 
be  translated,  to  show  how  the  poet  sometimes  adopts  the  heathen 
sentiments  of  Greek  or  Latin  poets,  while  he  writes  well  in  their 
antique  metres : — 

Here,  mid  the  strangers,  I  would  lay  my  bones. 
Far  from  my  own  cold  region  in  the  North, 
Far  from  the  land  where  on  the  poet's  lips 
His  song  is  frozen. 

Gladly  I'll  forfeit,  mid  these  heathen  tombs. 
That  heaven  of  which  Rome  holds  in  charge  the  portal, 
That  paradise  which  Peter's  golden  key 
Can  shut  or  open ; 


460  OUTLINES  OF  GEKaiAN  LITERATURE.  [Ck. 

Rather  conduct  my  shade  into  the  realm 
Where  dwell  the  mighty  poets  of  the  past. 
Where  Homer  sings,  and  tragic  Sophodea 
Rests,  crowned  with  laurel. 

• 

That  Platen  can  tell  a  story  with  good  effect,  though  in  a  few 
simple  words,  may  he  seen  in  his  lines  on  the  retirement  of  the 
Eukperor  Charles  the  Fifth  to  the  convent  of  St  Just: — 

It  is  hIaQk  night ;  lond  i»the  tempest^s  roar ; 
Good  Spanish  monk,  open  your  convent*s  door. 

Here  let  me  rest  till,  ere  the  dawn  of  day. 
The  convent  hell  awakens  me  to  pray. 

Prepare  for  me  such  robes  as  are  allowed  ; 
First  the  monastic  gown,  and  then  the  shroud. 

Give  me  a  little  cell  within  your  shrine — 
Once  more  than  half  this  hollow  world  was  mine. 

The  head  I  offer  to  the  tonsure  now 
Wore  diadems  and  jewels  on  the  brow, 

And  on  these  shoulders  that  a  cowl  must  hide 
Purple  and  costly  ermine  showed  their  pride. 

Now,  before  death,  I  would  be  reckoned  dead, 
like  my  old  realm,  in  ruins  round  me  spread. 

An  anecdote  in  the  life  of  the  great  painter,  Luca  Signorelli|  is 

told  almost  as  simply  as  the  above.    Luca,  now  an  old  man,  is 

>  working  in  his  studio,  when  he  hears  the  news  that  his  son — a 

handsome  youth — has  fallen  in  a  duel,  and  that  his  body  has  been 

carried  into  the  minster : — 

Straight  lo  the  church  the  master  went« 

He  shed  no  tears — ^he  said  no  more ; 
His  pupil,  knowing  his  intent. 

Beside  him  brush  and  palette  bore. 

He  steps  into  the  minster  dim ; 

From  many  a  shrine  his  paintings  gleam; 
The  monks  their  drear  funereal  hymn 

Chant  by  the  lamps'  undying  beam. 

There  Luca  gazes  on  the  dead ; 
.  Then  aU  night  in  that  solemn  place 
He  sits,  with  colours  near  him  spread 
To  paint  the  dear  boy*s  sleeping  face. 


XXVn.]  PLATEN.  451 

He  nits  and  paints  beside  the  bier, 

With  father's  heart  and  painter's  skill. 
Till  morning  dawns — '  I  have  him  here-« 

Buy  the  corpse  whene'er  yon  wilL' 

« 

One  more  specimen  of  Platen's  narratiye  style  may  be  giYen. 
The  poem  from  -which  the  following  stanzas  are  quoted  tells  how, 
after  the  Moslem  conquest  of  Persia,  the  Persian  hero,  Hannos^n, 
appeared  before  the  caliph  Omar  to  receive  the  sentence  of 
death : — 

Then  Omar  darkly  frown*d  on  him,  and  thus  the  victor  said  : — 
'  Know  yon  how  crimson  is  the  hand  that  faithful  blood  hath  shed  ? ' 
'  My  doom  awaits  your  pleasure  now — ^the  power  is  on  yonr  aid»— 
A  victor's  word  is  always  right !  '—so  Harmosin  replied. 

I  have  but  one  request  to  make,  whatever  fate  be  mine — 
For  these  three  days  1  have  not  drunk — bring  me  a  cup  of  wine  1 ' 
Then  Omar  nodded,  and  his  slaves  brought  presently  the  cup, 
But,  fearing  poison,  doubtfully  the  captive  held  it  Ap. 

*  Why  drink  you  not  ?  The  Mussulman  will  ne'er  deceive  a  guest : 
You  shall  not  die  till  you  have  drunk  that  wine — 'tb  of  the  best' 
The  Persian  seized  the  cup  at  once,  and  cast  a  smile  around,  • 

Then  dash'd  the  goblet  down — the  wine  ran  streaming  o'er  the  ground. 

As  Omar's  chieftains  saw  the  trick,  they  drew,  with  savage  fh>wn, 
Their ^eeo  and  glittering  scimitars  to  cut  the  Persian  down ; 
But  Omar  cried — *  So  let  him  live  !--Faithful  I  the  word  was  spoken ; 
My  word  is  sacred  as  an  oath,  and  never  shall  be  broken.' 

The  writer  whom  we  must  now  mention  may  be  said  to  be  the 
diief  connecting  link  between  the  close  of  the  period  1770-1830 
and  the  new  school  of  literature  that  followed  the  July  EeTolntion 
of  1880. 

HBnrBiCH  Hbinb,  the  son  of  Jewish  parents,  waa  bom  at 
Biisseldorf  in  1799.  He  studied  law  at  Berlin,  assumed  the  pro- 
fession of  Christianity  in  1825,  and,  after  1830,  resided  mostly  in 
Paris,  where  his  literary  services  were  rewarded  by  the  French 
Government.    He  died  in  1856. 

Heine  rapidly  gained  a  reputation  by  his  first  volume  of  lyrical 
poems,  his  JReisebilder  ('Pictures  of  Travel')  and  his  'Book  of 
Songs,'  which  were  all  published  in  the  course  of  the  years  1822- 
27.  These  works  were  followed  by  '  Germany,  a  Winter-Tale ' 
and  'Atta  Troll,'  which  were  both  vehicles  of  satire.  Heine 
published,  at  a  later  time,  a  series  of  poems  entitled  '  Romanzero 

oo2 


452  OUTLINES  OF  GEBHA27  LITERATUER  [Ch. 

(1851),  which  contains  some  sad  proofs  of  fiiyolitj,  followed  bj  an 
expression  of  repentance  that  seems  to  be  ironicaL 

The  lively  and  humorous  style  and  the  frivolous  character  of 
several  of  Heine's  prose  works  are  too  well  known  to  be  described 
here.  Some  of  his  polemical  writings  are  very  disgraceful,  as 
might  be  easily  proved  by  a  reference  to  his  controversy  with 
Luowia  BoBNB,  an  enthusiastic,  but  earnest  and  truthful  political 
writer. 

It  is  as  a  writer  of  lyrical  poetry  that  Heine  chiefly  claims  our 
notice  in  an  account  of  German  literature.  His  songs  and  other 
short  lyrical  poems  are  varied,  lively,  and  original,  though  (it 
must  be  added)  his  verse,  as  well  as  his  prose,  is  too  often  dis- 
figured by  the  coarsest  sentiments  and  most  irreyerent  expressions, 
apparently  thrown  in  with  no  other  motive  than  to  excite  attention, 
by  offending  good  taste. 

Heine's  best  lyric  poems,  while  retaining  their  own  distinct 
character,  have  often  some  glimpses  of  epic  or  dramatic  interest, 
and  give  us  a  series  of  outlines  for  genre  pictures.  The  poet  pro- 
duces effects  by  the  use  of  the  simplest  possible  means — ^a  few 
words,  seemingly  thrown  together  without  any  care — ^and  one  of 
his  mannerisms  is  to  leave  his  thought  only  half  expressed,  but  so 
that  the  sequel  may  be  easily  guessed.  It  is  not  diflicult^for  ex- 
ample, to  understand  all  that  is  implied  in  the  following  very 
brief  but  striking  story  of  two  trees,  which  are  here  made  to  servo 
as  symbols  of  a  hopeless  separation : — 

A  Pink  upon  a  barren  steep 

Stands,  in  the  Norland,  all  alone, 
Cover'd  with  ioe  and  snow — asleep, 

With  a  white  mantle  o'er  him  tlirown. 

The  Pine  is  dreaming  of  a  Palm 
That,  *mid  the  glow  of  a  tropic  day, 

On  a  burning  soil,  in  the  sultry  calm, 
Mourns— lone  and  still,  and  far  away. 

In  one  series  of  the  lyrical  poems  that  suggest  pictures,  we  are 
brought  to  the  coast  of  the  North  Sea,  and  are  introduced  to  the 
cottages  of  sailors  and  fishermen ',  in  other  songs  of  that  class  we 
visit  the  miner's  hut  on  the  Harzgebirge.  In  some  less  pleasant 
but  graphic  poems,  the  interiors  of  cottages  are  made  to  suggest 
tragic  incidents,  as  in  <The  Forester's  Hut'  in  the  wood, and,  still 


xxvn.]  H^iKE.  453 

more,  in  the  gloomy  yerses  entitled  ^  The  Preaclxer's  Family.* 
They  tell,  in  few  words^  a  long  and  dismal  story  of  the  old  preacher 
who  died  in  poverty  j  of  his  widow  left  with  only  her  bible  to 
console  her,  and  of  a  son  and  a  daughter  both  made  reckless  by 
want  of  hope.  The  gloom  of  the  picture  ia  perfect  and  by  no 
means  unreal : — 

The  pale  half-moon  of  the  aatamn--night 
Looks  oat,  through  donda  that  intervene; 

The  parsonage,  and,  white  with  stones, 
The  churchyard,  glimmer  in  her  sheen. 

The  mother  in  the  bible  reads. 
The  son  sits  there  with  downcast  ^es, 

The  elder  daughter,  half-asleep, 
Yawns,  as  the  younger  daughter  sighs  :— >       ^ 

'  Ah  God !  how  slow  the  tedious  dajrs 

Pass,  by  one  in  this  lonely  place  I 
Save  when  some  dismal  faneral  comes. 

We  never  see  a  stranger's  face  I  * 

Heine  was  one  of  the  believers  in  the  greatness  of  Napoleon  L 
It  might  be  well  supposed,  that  a  true  disciple  of  Chauvinism  had 
written  the  fine  ballad  of  *  The  Grenadiers '  returning  from  Russia 
to  France,  after  Waterloo.  A  few  lines  have  already  been  quoted 
{ante.  Chapter  XXVI.),  and  the  rest  of  the  ballad  deserves  notice 
here  as  a  good  specimen  of  Heine's  power  in  popular  writing. 
Thus  one  of  the  old  French  Grenadiers  addresses  his  comrade  :— 

But,  comrade,  grant  me  one  request — 

If  on  the  way  I  die, 
Carry  mo  home,  and  let  my  bones 

Beside  French  ashes  lie  I 

And  let  my  cross  of  honour  hang 
.    Just  here^  upon  my  breast ; 
And  put  the  musket  in  my  hand ; 

Then  leave  me  to  my  rest. 

• 

And  like  a  sentinel  in  the  grave, 

I'll  listen  for  the  day,        * 
'Till  I  hear  the  galloping  hoofs  again. 

And  the  thundering  cannon's  bray  | 

When  rides  the  Conqueror  o'er  my  grave, 

And  swords  and  muskets  rattle, 
m  rise  to  hail  my  Emperor, 

And  follow  him  to  battle. 


464  OUTUKES  OF  GEBMAN  UTERATUBE.  [Ca. 

Heine  can  assume  a  religions  as  well  as  a  military  tone  in  his 
poetry.  The  '  Pilgrimage  to  Kevlaar/  an  accomit  of  a  miracle 
wrought  at  that  shrine,  is  a  good  instance  of  Heine's  versatility. ' 
It  might  he  accepted  as  an  authentic  miraculous  legend  written  in 
old  times  by  some  devout  Catholic.  Another  pious  little  poem 
gives  us  a  beautiful  vision  of  the  quietude  of  Sunday  and  of  the 
happiness  of  Christian  devotion ;  but  we  have  only  to  turn  over  a 
few  pages  to  find  that  the  author  can  treat  the  same  or  closely 
similar  subjeets  with  the  grossest  irreverence. 

The  originality,  simplicity,  and  apparent  caMessness  of  Heine's 
lyrical  poems  are  all  well  exemplified  in  his  tale  of  '  The  Lorelei  * 
— a  dangerous  siren  haunting  a  steep  cliff  on  the  Rhine,  between 
St  Qoai:  and  Oberwesel,  at  a  spot  where  there  is  a  remarkable 
echo.  The  original  poem  is  so  perfectly  easy  and  careless  in  its 
style,  that  it  reads  like  an  impromptu : — 

I  know  not  what  it  may  mean  to-day 
That  I  am  to  grief  inclined ; 

There's  a  tale  of  a  Siren — an  old-world  lay- 
That  I  cannot  get  out  of  mj  mind. 

The  air  is  cool  in  the  twiKght  gray, 

And  quietly  flows  the  Rhine  ; 
On  the  ridge  of  the  cliif,  at  the  dose  of  the  day. 

The  ra3rs  of  the  sunset  shine. 

There  sits  a  maiden,  richly  dight. 

And  wonderfully  fair ; 
Her  golden  bracelet  glistens  bright 

As  she  combs  her  golden  hair,  * 

And  while  she  combs  her  locks,  so  bright^ 

She  sings  a  charming  lay  ; 
'TIS  sweety  yet  hath  a  marvellous  might, 

And  'tis  echoing  far  away. 

The  sailor  floats  down,  in  the  dnsk,  on  the  Rhine^ 

That  carol  awakens  his  grief ; 
He  sees  on  thf^  cliff  the  last  .sunbeam  shine. 

But  he  sees  not  the  perilons^reet 

Ah  I  soon  will  the  sailor,  in  bitter  despali^ 

To  his  foundering  skiff  be  clinging! 
And  that's  what  the  beautiful  Siren  there 

Has  done  with  her  charming  singing. 


>" 


The  tendencies  of  Heine's  prose  writings  will  be  made  clearer 
in  a  subsequent  brief  account  of  *  Young  Ghermany/  a  class  of 


XXVII.]  SCFEFER.    '  455 

young  autLors  who,  for  a  short  time,  might  be  regarded  as  Heine's 
followers  or  disciples. 

It  is  simply  with  a  view  to  chronological  order,  that  we  notice 
here  two  or  three  poetical  writers  whose  earlier  works  appeared 
during  the  Inst  decennium  of  Goethe's  life.  The  author  first 
named,  Schefer,  might  be  classed  with  Hiickert,  but  only  as  a 
writer  of  didactic  poetry. 

Leopold  Schefer  was  bom  in  1784,  at  Muskau  in  Ober-Laudtz, 
where  his  father  practised  as  a  physician.  The  son  enjoyed  all 
the  advantages  of  an  excellent  education,  and  acted  for  some  years 
ns  the  steward  of  Prince  Piickler-Muskau.  After  his  release  from 
this  service,  Schefer  travelled  eztensively  in  the  Levant.  His 
lat.er  years  were  passed  in  a  profound  quietude  at  his  native  place, 
where,  after  a  long  life  seldom  disturbed  by  care  or  sorrow,  he 
died  in  1862. 

His  literary  productivity  was  remarkable.  He  wrote  seventy- 
three  short  novels,  besides  the  didactic  works  m  verse  respectively 
entitled  'The  Layman's  Breviary*  (1834),  'The  Secular  Priest* 
(1846),  '  Household  Discourses '  (1854),  and  '  Vigils.*  To  these 
must  be  added  two  volumes  of  lyrical,  poetry — '  Hafiz  in  Hellas,* 
and  'The  Koran  of  Love' — in  order  to  represent  the  literary 
work  done  by  Stihefer.-  He  was  moreover  an  enthusiast  in 
music,  and  composed,  beside  vocal  pieces,  about  a  dozen  symphonies 
for  a  full  orchestra. 

His  novels  are  full  of  poetic  expressions  of  delight  in  the  con- 
templation of  nature,  and  give  proofs  of  high  imaginative  powers, 
but  they  are  extremely  defective  in  style  and  arrangement. 
Originality  and  beauty  are  found  in  many  of  Schefer*s  lyrica 
poems ;  but  his  most  remarkable  characteristics — his  '  Pantheism ' 
and -his  '  boundless  Optimism ' — are  seen  chiefly  in  his  didactic 
works,  of  which  '  The  Layman's  Breviary '  is  the  best  represen- 
tative. It  consists  of  a  series  of  meditations  on  nature,  human 
life,  and  Divine  Providence;^  which  are  interspersed,  here  and  there, 
with  some  fine  poetry.  The  prevailing  tone  of  the  book  is  so  full 
of  cheerfulness  and  contentment  that  it  seems  utterly  unreal ;  but 
it  was,  nevertheless,  maintained  by  the  author  throughout  his 
own  long  meditative  life.  If  that  life  had  been  more  practical,  or 
more  vexed  with  the  cares  and  afflictions  that  beset  ordinary  men, 
Schefer's  joyous  and  well-sustained  optimism  would'  have  been, 
indeed,  a  marvellous  phenomenon.    It  should  be  added,  that  the 


456  OUTLINES  OF  aERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

'wide  reputation  of  'The  Layman's  Breviary '  was  gained^  neither 
by  its  pantheistic  nor  by  its  optimistic  views  6f  life,  but  by  its 
pure  and  refined  ethics  and  its  numerous  fine  expressions  of  sym- . 
pathy  with  all  the  common  interests  of  human  life. 

The  author's  style  of  thinking,  as  well  as  of  writings  is  so 
peculiar,  that  no  clear  notion  of  it  can  be  given  wilhout  the  aid  of 
a  few  quotations.  The  following  lines  are  selected  from  a  poem 
of  consolation  addressed  to  the  parents  of  ap  afflicted  child : — 

ho,  God  is  here— immediatdy  here 

Asserts  Himself  in  every  drop  of  blood ; 

Ilere  as  the  sap  in  the  rose's  root  He  moves. 

Here  in  the  warmth-and-life-difiVisuig  fire, 

The  life-power  and  the  healing-power  of  alL 

All  that  He  owns  He  constantly  is  healings 

Quietly,  gently,  softly,  but  most  sorely ; — 

He  helps  the  lowliest  herb  with  wounded  stalk 

To  rise  again — see  I  flrom  the  heavens  fly  down 

All  gentle  powers  to  cure  the  blinded  Iamb  I 

Deep  in  the  treasure-house  of  wealthy  Nature 

A  ready  secret  instinct  wakes  and  moves 

To  clothe  the  naked  sparrow  in  the  nest, 

Or  trim  the  plumage  of  an  aged  raven  ; — 

Yea,  in  the  slow-decaying  of  a  r6se 

God  works,  as  well  as  in  the  unfolding  bad ;    . 

He  works  with  gentleness  unspeakable 

In  death  itself-^a  thousand  times  more  careful 

Than  ev'n  the  mother  by  her  sick  child  watching. 

Now ! — God  is  here — in  this  afflicted  child. 

In  every  vein  throughout  his  heavenly  form. 

Tia  He  who  wakes  beside  him  in  the  mother ; 

'Tis  He  that  gives  good  qpunsel  by  the  father ; 

la  the  physician's  hand  He  brings  the  help ; 

Through  all  the  means  He  lives— through  all  the  buds^ 

And  all  the  roots  of  the  medicinal  herb — 

Lives  in  this  morning  light — this  morning  breath. 

Lives  in  the  lark  that  sings  his  song  up  yonder, 

To  cheer  the  child,  who  hears  and  faintly  smiles  ; 

Lives  everywhere  with  perfect  power  and  love. 

Another  quotation  may,  perhaps,  serve  to  explain  the  charge  of 
pantheism '  preferred  against  Schefer : — 

My  Father !  all  that  seemeth  like  Thyself 
Among  mankind  1*11  love ;  but  oh,  forgive 
Hie  hasty  word  ! — forgive  the  helpless  thought  I— 
Said  I, '  like  Thee '  ?— I'd  rather  say,  whate'er 


ZXVn.]  ZEDLITZ.  457 

Has  even  the  faintest  eemblanoe  of  thj  fihadoify 

That  will  I  love  and  honour  evermore. 

Yea  t  let  it  take  the  forms  of  little  children. 

Or  let  it  in  the  beaoteous  moid  appear. 

Or  aa  the  worn  old  man,  with  silvered  hair, 

Or  as  a  sightless  pauper  whom  I  meet ; 

Or  let  me  see  a  shadow  of  thy  love 

In  the  swift  swallow,  that  flits  by  to  feed 

Her  callow  brood,  or  in  the  soaring  lark, 

Or  in  the  radiant  dove  that,  in  the  field, 

Picks  np  the  grain  which  Thou  hast  scatter'd  there. 

The  following  are  brief  specimeDs  of  Schefer's  practical 
ethics : — 

To  care  for  others  that  they  may  not  snifer 
What  we  have  suffer'd  is  divine  weU-doing, 
The  noblest  voce  of  thanks  for  all  our  sorrows. 

.  .  .  « •         •  . 

Thus  I  have  seen  a  lame  and  halting  child 
Prop  np  most  tenderly  a  broken  plant, 
And  a  poor  mother,  whose  own  child  was  burnt, 
Snatch  from  the  flame  the  children  of  another. 
So,  generous  man,  return  thou  constant  thanks, 
For  al)  thy  griefis,  to  God  and  to  mankind. 
And  ending  grief  will  make  unending  joy. 

Schefer's  whole  doctrine  may  be  briefly  indicated  by  saying  that 
it  forms  the  antipodes  to  all  that  is  taught  by  Arthur  Schopen- 
hauer. 

An  Austrian  poet,  Josbph  yon  Zbdlitz  (1790-1862),  may  be 
at  least  mentioned  here.  He  followed  the  traditions  of  the 
Romantic  School,  but  wrote  elegantly  in  an  elegiac  strain  in  his 
'Wreaths  for  the  Dead.'  His  'Forest  Maid'  is  a  pleasant 
idyll,  which  revives  the  picturesque  scenery  used  by  Tieck  and 
his  school. 

A  Bohemian  poet,  Ejlbl  Eoov  Ebbbt,  who  was  bom  at 
Prague  in  1801,  may  be  also  named  among  the  writers  who 
gained  tlieir  reputation  during  the  last  ten  years  of  Goethe's  life. 
.  Ebert*8  epic  poem,  Wtasta,  founded  on  an  old  Bohemian  legend  of 
Amazonian  warfare,  won  some  moderate  commendation  from 
Goethe  in  1829.  Since  then  Ebert  has  written  an  idyU  entitled 
*  The  Convent,'  besides  some  good  ballads  and  many  dramatic 
pieces. 

The  general  tendency  of  poetical  literature^,  during  the  years  of 


'  458  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [G 

wLicli  an  account  has  been  giyen  in  this  and  in  the  preceding 
chapter,  was  popular  and  in  some  degree  political.  Uhland  and 
Heine,  though  strongly  opposed  in  other  respects,  were  alike  in 
their  tendency  to  give  a  social  and  popular  interest  to  their  poems. 
After  July  1830  that  tendency  was  carried  on  by  other  writers  to 
an  extreme  point,  and  poetry  was  often  made  a  mere  vehicle  for 
new  political  notions. 


XXVm.]  FBENCH  EEVOLUTION  OP  1830.  459 


k 


CHAPTER  XXVm. 

JtJLY  1830 — PROOBESS — ^BETEOSPBCT  OP  1800-30 — FICETB — SCHBL- 
UNO— HBOEL — THB  HSGELIAK  METHOD — LOGIC — NATURE — MIND 
— FHILOSOPHT  OF  HISTORY — FREEDOM — BBLIQION,  MORAI^,  AMD 
POLITICS — ^iBSTHETlCS. 

The  French  Beyolution  of  July  1830  marks  the  dfite  of  a  new 
epoch  in  German  Literature.  The  movement  that  then  took 
place  had  been  prepared  during  a  dull  and  slow  contest  of  progress 
with  reaction  in  the  years  1815-30.  In  the  following  decennium 
innovation  in  philosophy,  in  the  theory  of  religion,  in  politics  and 
in  social  life,  was  the  main,  general  tendency  of  literature  in  prose 
and  verse.  A  new  fermentation  took  place,  and  the  impatient 
spirit  of  the  age  was  well  expressed  by  Ltjdwig  Borne  (1786- 
1837),  the  author  of  *  Letters  from  Paris  *  and  one  of  the  most 
respectable  of  all  the  radical  publicists  who  were  calling  out  for  a 
revolution  in  everything.  In  one  amusing  passage  of  his  writings 
his  fervour  burst  out  in  an  odd  form  of  prayer  for  the  times : — *  O 
Patience  1 '  he  exclaims,  *  Queen  and  Governess  of  the  German 
People  and  of  Tortoises! — Patroness  of  my  poor,  languishing 
native  land  I — Germanize  me,  O  Goddess  I  from  the  sole  of  my 
foot  to  the  crown  of  my  head,  and  then  stow  me  away  in  a  museum 
of  old  curiosities  and  in  a  case  filled  with  the  most  singular  petri- 
factions I  ....  I  vow  that  henceforth  I  will  be  thy  most  faithful 
servant.  I  will  regularly  peruse  the  *'  Dresden  Evening  News  " 
and  all  the  theatrical  criticisms.  Yea,  I  will  read  Hegel  until  I 
understand  what  he  means,  and  I  will  stand,  in  rainy  weather  and 
without  an  umbrella,  in  front  of  the  hall  where  the  German  Diet 
is  assembled,  and  I  wiU  wait  there  patiently  until  somebody 
comes  out  and  proclaims  the  freedom  of  the  press.' 

Bome's  declamatory  fervour  represented  the  views  of  many 
young  men  who  demanded  that  the  freedom  which  since  Lessing's 


460  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITERATURE.  [Oh. 

time  had  existed,  as  they  said,  only  in  literature,  should  be 
asserted  in  political  and  practical  life.  Thej  denounced  the  re- 
trogressive and  unpractical  character  of  the  Romantic  School, 
though  admitting  that  it  had  given  a  national  tone  to  poetry. 
Libend  and  progressive  politics,  it  was  said,  were  urgently  wanted 
instead  of  ideal  poetry,  and  imaginative  literature  must  be  made 
the  humble  servant  of  practical  life.  It  was  boldly  declared,  that 
the  German  people  had,  at  last^  resolved  to  become  severely 
practical. 

Accordingly,  both  verse  and  imaginative  prose  were  made 
vehicles  of  the  new  tendencies  that  prevailed ;  and  not  a  little  of 
the  so-called  *  poetry '  written  about  this  time  was  generally  more 
to  be  commended  for  its  earnest  feeling  than  for  its  SBsthetic  value. 
Poetry,  indeed,  can  no  longer  fairly  claim  the  place  of  honour  in 
an  account  of  national  literature.  The  most  important  tendencies 
of  the  age  were  expressed  in  discussions  of  philosophical  and  re- 
ligious questions,  especially  those  introduced  in  the  Hegelian 
School  which  prevailed  in  Berlin  from  1820  to  1830,  and  for 
some  years  after  HegeVs  death,  which  took  place  in  1881. 

The  Influence  of  the  Romantic  School  in  poetry  and  of  its 
tendencies  in  religion  and  politics  was  declining  in  the  course  of 
the  years  1820-30,  while  Hegel  reigned  in  philosophy.  To  say 
nothing  of  his  strict,  systematic  plan  of  teaching,  or  of  his  profound 
respect  for  antique  Grecian  art  and  poetry — his  assertion  of  the 
necessity  of  political  progress,  and  of  a  slow  but  sure  development 
of  rational  freedom  based  upon  moral  and  religious  culture ;  his 
stern  Protestantism  and  his  opposition  to  every  external  religion 
depending  on  traditions;  his  boldest  doctrine,  that  all  that  is 
spiritual  and  rational  must  be  gradually  made  real  and  actual ; — 
these  and  other  principles  insisted  on  in  his  laborious  course  of 
teaching  were  all,-  more  or  less  directly,  opposed  to  retrogressive 
tendencies. 

The  ten  years  1830-40  might  be  called  revolutionary.  Among 
the  immediate  results  of  their  movement  we  find  the  divisions  of 
'Right,'  'Left,'  and  'Centre'  in  the  Hegelian  School,  and  the 
new  social  notions  of  '  Young  Germany,'  which  were  encouraged 
both  by  Heine's  frivolity,  and  by  Borne's  earnest  liberalism. 
Philosophy,  poetry,  journalism,  all  now  became  more  or  less 
political.  Abnolb  RireE,  in  the  JSaUischen  Jahrbiicher,  endeavours 
to  make  philosophy  practical  and  democratic.    Political  poetry, 


XXVm.]      PBOGEESS  OF  LITERATURE   1830-40.  461 

takes  the  place  of  ideaJism,  and  '  the  Future '  takes  the  place  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  Literature  is  no  longer  insular  in  relation  to 
popular  life.  Numerous  lively  stories  founded  on  the  real  lives 
and  circumstances  of  the  people  are  noticeable  as  signs  of  the 
times.  Events  are  leading  on  to  the  depression  of  hopes  that 
must  follow  1840  and  to  the  movement  that  must  take  place  in 
1848. 

It  is  in  this  epoch  of  bold  innovations  that  the  Recent  Literatu/e 
which  we  must  now  briefiv  describe  has  its  commencement.  As 
we  have  already  stated  (in  the  Introduction  to  these  Outlines)| 
the  prolific  writers  of  the  time  1830-70  cannot  be  treated  with 
such  freedom  of  criticism  as  may  have  been,  here  and  there,  as- 
serted in  reference  to  the  moral,  political,  and  religious  tendencies 
of  authors  belonging  to  the  preceding  periods.  The  reasons  are 
obvious.  We  have  here  no  aid  derived  from  such  criticism  aa 
has  been  confirmed  by  the  verdict  of  time.  Moreover,  the  general 
literature  of  this  recent  period  is  strongly  imbued  with  contro- 
versial, political,  social,  and  religious  tendencies.  Many  of  the 
writers  whom  we  must  name  are  still  living,  and  their  reputations 
must  be  tested  by  time.  To  repeat  here  what  has  been  said  in 
the  Introduction  to  these  Outlines — for  the  following  account  of 
recent  productions  no  respect  is  claimed  more  than  what  is  due  to  a 
careful  statement  of  facts. 

The  idea  of  progress,  which  was  made  prominent  by  Hegel's 
teaching,  remained  predominant  in  general  literature^  as  well  aa 
in  philosophy,  after  1830.  The  light  literature  of  the  ten  years 
1830-40  was  made  a  vehicle  for  the  notions  of  '  Young  Germany/ 
while  the  more  important  tendencies  of  the  age  were  expressed  in 
the  controversy  arising  ou4  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Hegelian 
School.  Before  we  attempt  to  describe  the  divisions  of  that 
school,  some  account  of  its  origin  may  be  given ;  but  it  should  be 
observed,  that  no  pretension  is  made  of  giving  anything  like  an 
analysis  of  the  Hegelian  system.  Its  exposition  is  to  be  found 
only  in  itself;  but  we  may  attempt  to  describe  here  its  origin,  its 
apparent  tendencies^  and  some  of  its  more  manifest  results.  To 
make  as  clear  as  we  can  the  origin  of  the  system,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary to  refer  again  to  the  theories  of  Fichte  and  Schelling,  which 
have  already  been  noticed  (ante,  Chapters  XXIV.  and  XXVI.)  in 
their  connection  with  general  literature.  Their  influence  in  the 
development  of  speculative  philosophy  must  here  be  referred  to. 


462       .    OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ctt. 

JoHANir  Gottlieb  Fichte,  born  in  1762,  fought  long  with 
poverty  and  studied  deeply  before  he  acquired  fame  (in  1792)  by 
his  book  entitled  *  A  Critique  of  all  Revelation.'  This  gained  for 
him  an  appointment  as  professor  of  philosophy  at  Jena,  where  he 
taught  the  doctrines  which  were  stated  in  his  Wissenschaftdehrcj 
and  in  other  works  published  in  1794-98.  The  publication  of  an 
article  in  a  philosophical  journal  led  to  a  charge  of  atheism  pre- 
ferred against  Fichte.  The  patrons  of  the  University  of  Jena  were 
by  no  means  disposed  to  support  the  charge  against  their  professor, 
but  he  demanded  that  it  should  be  either  proved  or  formally 
denounced.  Fichte  was  then  allowed  to  leave  his  chair  at  Jena, 
and  went  to  Berlin,  where,  in  1808,  he  boldly  delivered  (though 
his  voice  was,  now  and  then,  drowned  by  French  military  music 
in  the  street)  the  patriotic  ^Addresses  to  the  German  Nation,' 
from  which  we  have  already  quoted  some  passages.  In  1810  he 
was  appointed  rector  of  the  University  of  Berlin.  When  the  War 
of  Liberation  began,  he  showed  himself  ready  to  maintain  prac- 
tically his  own  assertions  of  patriotic  principles,  and  to  sacrifice 
life  to  the  fulfilment  of  his  duty  to  his  native  land.  His  death 
accorded  well  with  the  tenour  of  his  life  and  his  teaching.  His 
wife,  while  attending  to  the  wants  of  wounded  soldiers,  was 
prostrated  by  hospital  fever.  Her  life  was  spared;  but  Fichte 
was  soon  afteiwards  attacked  by  the  same  disease  and  died, 
•Tanuary  28,  1814.  He  was,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  wordS)  a 
brave  man. 

Fichte  collected  no  considerable  elbhool  of  disciples ;  but  the 
influence  of  his  teaching  was  powerful  in  ethics  and  metaphysics. 
In  the  latter  .his  aim  was  to  find  union  instead  of  Kant's  duality. 
Kant  had  concluded  with  the  asserti^  that  we  cannot  know  the 
substance,  or  ground,  of  appearances.  Fichte  asserted  that  an 
absolute  Personality  causes  all  the  appearances  of  the  finite  world 
to  exist,  but  only  as  the  means  of  making  manifest  the  power  of 
his  own  moral  will.  Beyond  this  supreme  will  no  independent 
substance  exists.  It  should  hardly  be  necessary  to  state,  that 
Fichte  never  dreamed  of  an  error  that  has  been  ascribed  to  him — 
that  of  confounding  the  individual  and  arbitrary  will  of  any  man, 
or  of  any  collection  of  men,  with  the  will  of  the  Absolute  ^  £ga' 
On  the  contrary,  he  taught  that  our  moral  education  consists  in 
learning  to  surrender  our  own  false,  partial  and  antagonistic  wills 
to  the  One  True  and  Universal  Will    There  were  two  stages  in 


XXVIII.]  FICHTE.  46 


o 


Fichte's  teaching.  At  Jena  he  was  stern,  and  talked  mostly;  in 
£ant*8  style;  of  obedience  to  the  dictates  of  conscience.  He  then 
described  Duty  as  a  'stern  lawgiver/  but  not  as  wearing 

The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace. 

At  Berlin  he  professed  a  mystic  belief  in  Christianity;  especially 
as  set  forth  in  St.  John's  Gospel,  and  spoke  as  much  of  love  as  of 
stern  duty.  Two  lines  from  a  sonnet  written  by  Fichte  may 
suffice  to  show  that  he  did  not  make  an  idol  of  his  own  will : — 

Let  thine  own  Ego — ^all  that's  mortal — die  $ 
Then  God  alone  lives  in  thy  life's  endeavour. 

The  influence  of  Fichte's  teaching  was  felt  mostly  in  the  studies 
of  history,  politics;  and  morals.  His  metaphysical  principles  might 
appear  abstruse ',  but  their  results  were  clear  and  practical  They 
demanded  a  general  scientific  reformation.  History  was  to  be 
studied  as  a  progression,  and  not  as  a  pile  of  facts ;  morals  and 
theology  were  to  be  more  closely  united,  and  government  was  to 
be  studied  as  an  organism  animated  throughout  by  the  spirit  of 
liberty.  In  the  philosophy  of  nature  Fichte*s  principles  were  at : 
first  developed  and  then  changed  by  his  disciple  (afterwards,  his 
opponent)  Schelling,  whose  book  *  On  the  Method  of  Academical 
Study '  (1803)  excited  an  enthusiasm  now  sometimes  mentioned 
as  something  marvellous.  Men,  at  that  time,  displayed  in  their 
study  of  grand  theories  a  zeal  almost  equal  to  that  now  put  forth 
in  the'  miiversal  fight  for  gold.  They  sought  for  wisdom  '  as  for 
hidden  treasure.'  , 

Fbiepbich  Wilhslm  Joseph  ton  Schelling,  bom  at  Leon- 
berg  in  1775;  was  in  early  life  noticed  as  the  most  advanced  of  all 
the.yonng  students  at  Tiibingen;  where  he  was  the  friend  of  Hegel 
and  the  poet  Holderlein.  When  only  seventeen  years  old; 
Schelling  gained  promotion  by  writing  a  philosophical  expositibn 
of  the  third  chapter  in  the  Book  of  Genesis.  He  afterwards  went 
to  Jena,  where  he  was  Fichte's  chief  disciple  and  successor,  and, 
as  we  have  told  (ante.  Chapter  XXIV.),  was,  for  a  short  time,  asso- 
ciated with  the  men  of  the  Romantic  School.  He  soon  departed 
from  the  principles  of  Fichte's  teaching,  and  produced  a  new  theory, 
accepted  as  a  *  philosophy  of  Nature/  of  which  Hegel  was,  for 
some  time,  an  earnest  student.  Subsequently  Hegel  dissented 
from  his  Mend's  discursive  and  sometimes  dogmatic  mode  of 


m 


464  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

teaching,  and  asserted  the  necessity  of  a  strictly  logical  method. 
'Sckelling^a  intuition/  says  Hegel,  'seems  to  be  shot  out  of  a 
pistol.'  After  leaving  Jena  (in.  1808)  Schelling  gained  the 
appointment  of  secretary  to  the  Academy  at  Munich,  where  he 
was  elected  professor  of  philosophy  n  1827.  He  was  called,  in 
1841,  to  Berlin,  where  he  delivered  a  course  of  lectures  on  '  The 
I'hilosophy  of  Kevelation/  and  gave  the  outlines  of  a  new  theory 
which  was  in  several  points  opposed  to  the  Hegelian  method,  and 
may  be  best  explained  by  a  contrast  with  HegeVs  teaching. 
Schelling  died  in  1854. 

His  earlier  theofies  were  never  reduced  to  one  consistent 
system,  but  were  greatly  modified  from  time  to  time  in  the  course 
of  the  few  years  1797-1800,  and  were  at  last  said  to  be  superseded 
by  the  new  doctrines  promulgated  after  1841.  Of  his  earlier 
nature-philosophy  some  account  has  already  been  given  (ante. 
Chapter  XXIV.).  The  general  tendency  of  all  the  transitions 
made  in  his  later  teaching  was  towards  an  attempted  reconciliation 
of  philosophy  with  positive  Christian  theology,  at  least  with  some 
of  its  doctrines.  In  his  early  .theory  he  asserted  the  identity  of 
the  Mind  and  Nature,  and  hardly  differed  from  Spinoza's  teaching. 
J3y  several  transitions — found  in  his  writings,  'On  the  Soul  of 
the  World'  (1798),  the  'System  of  Transcendental  Idealism' 
(1800),  '  Bruno '  (1802),  and  the  '  Lectures  on  the  Method  of 
Academical  Study '  (1803) — he  advanced  to  the  doctrine  of 
mysticism  contained  in  a  work  '  On  the  Freedom  of  Man '  (1809)^ 
which  may  be  described  as  consisting  mostly  of  an  exposition  of 
principles  previously  asserted  by  Jakob  Bohme.  It  would  be  very, 
difficult  to  give  any  account  at  once  concise  and  faithful  of  Schel- 
ling's  latest  teaching;  but  it  maybe  observed  that  its  general 
tendency  was  to  assert  itself  as  '  Monotheism,'  in  opposition  to 
Pantheism,  and  to  refer  the  existence  of  moral  evil  to  its  cause  in 
a  perversion  of  man's  will.  With  regard  to  thb  doctrine,  Schel- 
ling's  latest  theory  closely  approaches  the  teaching  of  Franz  von 
Baader,  in  connection  with  wiiich  it  may  be  more  distinctly 
noticed  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 

Fichte  and  Schelling  both  endeavoured  to  escape  ftom  the 
duality  with  which  Kant  concluded  his  critiques.  He  left;  a 
gulph  between  the  mind  and  nature ;  for  one  part  of  his  teaching 
was  virtually  equivalent  to  the  assertion  that  we  can  know  nothing 
of  what  natura  may  be  in  itself.    And,  as  we  have  already  said 


XXVin.]  HEGEL.  465 

(antef  Chapter  XVn.)y  he  left  a  division  as  stronglj  marked 
between  the  inteUect  and  the  moral  conscience.  Fiehte  asserted 
that  philosophy  must  be  a  deduction  from  one  principle,  and 
Schelling  taught  that  the  basis  of  philosophy  must  be  found,  not 
in  reasoning,  bat  in  a  primary  intuition  of  the  identity  of  the 
Mind  and  its  Object.  This  identity  (or  rathe^  union  in  apparent 
disunion),  Hegel  asserted,  must  not  be  left  in  the  esoteric  form  of 
mysticism,  but  must  be  set  forth,  or  developed,  by  a  logical 
method.  If  a  thought  is  deep  and  true,  he  says,  its  capability  of 
expansion  will  be  as  great  as  its  depth ;  it  can  survive  its  en- 
counters with  all  possible  contradictions,  and  will  make  all 
oppositions  serve  as  a  means  of  its  own  development.  These  and 
similar  assertions  in  the  preface  to  the  *  Phenomenology  of  the 
Mind '  (1807)  indicated  the  work  which  the  writer  afterwards 
endeavoured  to  perform  in  his  'Logic'  (1812-16)  and  in  his 
'  Encyclopsedia '  (1817). 

The  system  of  doctrines,  and  the  dialectic  method  by  which  it  is 
•developed  in  these  writings,  must  be  regarded  as  highly  important, 
even  if  both  should  be  found  erroneous;  for,  in  this  case,  the 
system  may  serve  as,  perhaps,  the*  greatest  of  all  discouragements 
for  students  of  philosophy,  and  may  thus  lead  them  to  pursue 
uther  studies.  Ilegers  was  the  most  extensive,  laborious,  and 
persevering  effort  ever  made  to  find  union  prevailing  throughout 
all  the  departments  of  knowledge — ^logic  and  metaphysics,  the 
physical  sciences,  psychology,  ethic^  law  and  politics,  history, 
religion,  and  {esthetics.  He  endeavoured  to  unite  metaphysics  with 
a  strictly  logical  method  by  which  all  the  categories  and  laws 
of  thought  should  be  united  in  one  sequence,  arranged  in  their 
own  internal  order,  and  held  within  their  own  respective  limits. 
These  laws,  he  asserts,  are  no  abstractions,  but  may  Ve  describe 
as  the  eternal  and  adamantine  chain  that  holds  in  imion  the 
physical  and  spiritual  universe. 

GsoRe  WiLHELU  Fbiedbich  Hegel,  the  author  of  this  vast 
system  of  philosophy,  was  bom  at  Stuttgart,  August  27,  1770. 
After  receiving  his  early  training  at  the  Gymnasium  in  his  native 
place,  he  went  to  study  theology  at  the  University  of  Tubingen, 
where  he  became  acquainted  with  his  young  friend  Schelling. 
Soon  after  leaving  Tubingen,  Hegel  was  engaged  as  a  private 
tutor  at  Berne.  He  had  already  learned  to  ponder  on  hard 
problems,,  as  we  see  in  his  journal  written  during  a  pedestriaa 

HH 


466  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  UTEEATURE.  [Ch. 

tour  in  Switzerland.  Some  parts  of  the  diary  are  intensely 
prosaic,  and. describe  such  matters  as  the  manufacture  of  cheese. 
In  other  notes  are  found  characteristic  expressions  of  opinion. 
The  barren  heights  &nd  their  glaciers  suggested  to  the  young 
student  grave  doubts  respecting  some  of  the  facile  conclusions  of 
natural  theology.  *  Here/  said  the  touristy  '  it  hardly  appears 
clear  to  me  that  all  things  have  been  created  for  man's  enjoyment' 
The  glaciers  and  the  mountains  seem  to*  have  excited  hardly  any 
admiration,  but*  the  Reichenbach  waterfall  is  described  with  a 
genial  delight,  and  in  poetical  language. 

After  leaving  Berne,  in  1796,  Hegel  lived  as  a  private  tutor  in 
Frankfurt  (1797-1800),  and  during  his  stay  there  wasan  industrious 
'student  in  ancient  literature,  history,  philosophy,  theology,  and 
ecclesiastical  history.  He  wrote  during  those  years,  in  very 
simple  and  dispassionate  language,  a  'Life  of  Christ'  In  this 
calm  narrative  there  can  be  found  no  trace  of  the  irreverence  >[)f 
old-fashioned  rationalism ;  but  it  is  noticeable  that  not  one  word 
is  said  expressiye  of  either  a  belief  or  a  denial  of  any  miraculous 
events  mentioned  in  the  four  Gospels.  They  are  all  simply  omit- 
ted. Hegel  went  to  Jena  in  1801,  and  there  gained  a  bare  sub- 
sistence by  giving  private  lessons  to  a  few  young  students.  There 
he  again  met  his  friend  and  fellowHstudent  Schelling,  whom  he 
assisted  in  editing  '  A  Critical  Journal  of  Philosophy '  (1802-3), 
in  which  he  first  published  the  hard  and  abstruse  treatise,  Glauben 
und  Wisaen  ('  Faith  and  Science ').  Hfi  was  by  no  means  very 
successful  as  a  tutor,  though  he  gained  a  professorship  at 
Jena  in  1806,  and,  in  the  course  of  that  and  the  following  year, 
wrote  his  first  independent  treatise,  the  '  Phenomenology  of  the 
Mind.'  In  the  thoughtful  but  difficult  preface  to  this  work  he 
first  clearly  expressed  his  dissent  from  Schelling's  discursive  style 
of  teaching,  and  indicated  his  own  dialectic  method,  which  was 
afterwards  fully  developed  in  his  '  Logic'  He  was  finishing  the 
'  Phenomenology '  (1806)  when  the  thunders  of  French  artillety 
at  Jena  disturbed  his  philosophic  speculations,  and  drove  him  away 
to  find  some  scanty  means  of  subsistence  at  Bamberg,  where,  for 
a  short  time,  he  edited  a  political  journal.  His  income  derived 
from  this  work  was  scanty.  When  inviting  a  young  friend  to 
contribute,  now  and  then,  an  article  to  the  '  Mercury,'  the  editor 
ofiered  no  honorarium  better  than '  a  jug  of  Bamberg  beer,'  which, 
however,  he  pronounced  to  be  '  excellent'    He  was  hardly  satis- 


XXVmj  HEGEL.  467 

fied  either  with  his  duties  or  with  his  income  at  Bambergr,  and 
wished  to  be  reinstated  as  professor  at  Jena.  He  soon,  however, 
gained  (1808)  a  better  appointment  as  rector  of  the  Gymnasium 
at  Niimbergy  where  he  discharged  his  duties  with  kindness'  and 
fidelity,  though  he  was  then  deeply  engaged  in  the  development 
of  his  philosophical  system,  and  was,  from  time  to  time,  making 
progress,  but  with  many  interruptions,  in  writing  his  *  Logic' 
(1812-16).  In  one  of  his  letters  from  Niirnberg  he  acknowledges 
the  receipt  of  a  complete  copy  of  Bohme's  writings.  To  readers 
who  have  derived  from  the  extreme  left  side  of  his  school,  or 
from  other  secondary  sources,  their  notions  of  HegeFs  own  tenets, 
the  fact,  though  true,  may  appear  remarkable,  that  as  the  head- 
master of  the  school  at  Niirnberg  he  was  strict  in  demanding 
attention  to  ethical  and  religious  studies.  Slpon  aftar  his  mar- 
riage (with  a  lady  considerably  jounger  than  himself)  Hegel  was 
appointed  professor  of  philosophy  at  Heidelberg  (1816),  where 
he  published  in  (1817)  his  smaller  '  EncyclopaBdia,'  containing  a 
summary  of  his  whole  system  of  teaching,  but  Without  the 
explanatory  notes  which  were  appended  to  it  in  a  later  edition. 
At  Heidelberg  he  gained  several  friends  and  ardent  disciples ;  but 
he  remained  a  comparatively  obscure  man  until  1818,  when  he 
was  invited  to  take  the  chair  of  philosophy  at  the  University  of 
Berlin. 

Li  his  opening  address,  delivered  in  October  1818,  he  spoke 
of  the  University  of  Berlin  as  destined  to  be  recognised  as  the 
middle-point  of  the  civilised  world,  or  as  the  centre  of  intel- 
lectual culture,  and  he  asserted,  on  the  same  occasion,  that 
religion  and  philosophy  must  be  united  with  a  true  political 
progress.  Though  he  maintained  that  the  development  of  freedom 
was  the  goal  of  all  history,  his  views  of  progress  were  so  far 
moderated  by  his  philosophical  theory  of  history  that  he  was 
generally  regarded  at  Berlin  as  a  firm  conservative  in  politics. 
He  thus  guned  the  confidence  and  the  support  of  the  Altenstein 
ministry,  and  this  fact  gave  rise  to  the  statement,  that  he  had 
modified  his  own  opinions  as  formerly  held,  in  order  to  gain  the 
patronage  of  the  Government.  That  this  accusation  was  without 
foundation,  may  be  seen  by  a  reference  to  the  '  J^hilosophy  of 
Bights,'  which  was  published  in  1821.  To  the  principles  asserted 
in  that  treatise  the  author  subsequently  faithfully  adhered.  He 
consistently  advocated  a  representation  of  the  people^  freedom  of 

hh2 


4G8  OUTLINES  OF  GKBMAH  UTEBATUBE.  [Cau 

tha  press,  publicity  in  the  administration  of  justice,  trial  by  juiy, 
and  the  administratiye  independence  of  civic  corporations.  To 
facilitate  divorces  and  to  corrupt  and  degrade  the  corporations  of 
towns — these,  said  Hegel,  are  two  sure  ways  of  leading  to  a  dis- 
solution of  society.  He  described  a  constitutional  monarchy,  or 
a  state  where  the  king  represents  the  true  general  and  organic 
will  of  a  people,  as  the  most  perfect  form  of  government ;  but  he 
added  that  no  government  could  endure  without  the  support  of 
religion. 

In  his  later  years  his  conservative  tendencies  were  straigthened 
by  the  occurrence  of  the  July  Bevolution  and  by  the  discussions 
on  the  English  Reform  Bill,  with  which  he  had  made  himself  inti- 
mately acquainted,  as  he  was  a  regular  reader  of  English  political 
journals.  Qe  wrot^,  in  1831,  an  article  on  the  English  Beform 
Bill,  in  which,  while  adhering  to  his  judgment  in  favour  of  the 
English  form  of  government,  he  expressed  fears  respecting  the 
results  of  political  chazigea  based  on  theory.  At  the  same  time, 
he  described  the  freedom  enjoyed  by  the  people  of  England  as 
more  formal  than  real,  and  he  asserted  that  in  no  country  in 
Europe  were  private  ii^tereets  allowed  to  prevail  so  much  as  in 
England.  As  proofis  of  this,  he  mentioned,  with  severe  disappro- 
bation, cases  of  misappropriation  of  church  property  and  the 
injurious  effects  of  the  game-laws.  He  then  proceeded  to  argue, 
that  freedom  in  England  had  long  consisted  mostiy  in  a  supposed 
balance  of  the  interests  of  parties,  and  that  the  introduction  of 
wider  and  more  theoretical  principles  could  not  be  safe  without  a 
great  improvement  of  education  in  the  higher  as  well  as  in  the 
lower  classes  of  society. 

Hegel's  power  as  a  lecturer  must  have  been  based  on  a 
belief  in  his  depth  and  sincerity;  for  his  style  was  utterly 
destitute  of  all  external  attractions,  and  was,  in  fact,  such  as  is 
generally  styled  dull  and  heavy.  Throughout  his  life  he  never 
acquired  anything  like  a  pleasant  fJEunlity  of  utterance.  He  had 
always  to  struggle  in  order  to  find  expressions  for  his  complicated 
thoughts,  and  the  hard  internal  effort  was  both  visible  and  audible. 
His  aspect,  though  noble  in  its  profile— ^especially  in  moments  of 
high  Lnspiratictfi — was  generally  severe  and  like  that  of  a  man 
inured  to  long  and  hard  wrestlings  with  the  most  stubborn 
problems  of  thought  and  life,  and  his  eyes,  while  he  spoke, 
seemed,  generally,  to  be  looking  far  awBy  into  some  ideal  worlds 


XXVUl.]  HEGEL.  46? 

He  would  commonly  begin  a  lecture  with  painful  hesitation 
and  slow,  difficult  utterance,  but  would  fight  his  way  against  a 
want  of  words,  or  through  obstructions  of  thought,  and,  at  last, 
would  make  his  hearers  sympathise  with  both  the  difiicultiee  of 
the  outset  and  the  apparent  sense  of  triumph  by  which  his  efforts 
were  rewarded.  It  was  said  of  him,  in  his  daily  intercourse,  that 
his  presence  had  a  remarkably  attractive,  but  also  a  repelling 
power.  He  was  exemplary  as  a  faithful  husband  and  an 
affectionate  father,  and  loved  to  live  at  home  in  a  very  quiet  and 
unassuming  style,  and  to  associate  with  homely  friends  who  had 
no  pretensions  whaterer,  either  in  literature  or  in  .philosophy. 
He  liked  to  reserve  his  metaphysics  for  the  lecture-hall,  and 
never  made  any  attempt  to  shine  as  a  talker  in  society.  When  at 
home  and  among  his  friends  he  had  great  delight  in  playing 
whist,  and  treated  the  game  with  all  the  earnestness  which 
Charles  Lamb  ascribes  to  Mrs.  Battle.  If  his  partner  was  careless, 
Hegel  would  look  at  him  reproachfully  and  say,  *  There  he  chatters 
and  chatters  and  spoils  the  game  I '  A  visitor  might  imagine 
that  the  homely  and  quiet  Suabian  there  at  rest  in  the  midst  of 
his  family  had  never  once  heard  the  hard  word  *  dialectics,'  and 
cared  nothing  for  any  philosophical  disputations^  ancient  or 
modem. 

But  when  he  was  urged  to  engage  in  controversy,  he  would 
sometimes  manifest  strong  anger,  and  assume  (it  is  said)  the 
authoritative  tone  of  an  offended  schoolmaster.  Of  philosophical 
and  religious  controversies  he  commonly  spoke  as  of  Hedious 
affairs,'  generally  arising,  he  said,  out  of  a  defective  knowledge  of 
facts.  Several  misrepresentations  of  his  views  on  both  religion 
and  politics  gave  rise  to  this  impatience  in  controversy.  Among 
other  gross  errors  that  were  ascribed  to  his  teaching  was  included 
the  supposed  denial  that  religion  could  exist  under  the  form  of 
sentiment,  however  deep  and  true.  On  the  contrary,  he  asserted 
that '  the  substance  of  all  religion  might  be  implied  in  feeling ; ' ' 
but  he  added  that  appeals  to  sentiment  were  quite  out'  of  place 
in  a  philosophical  discussion.  In  con^stency  with  this  statement 
he  controverted  the  exclusive  doctrine  of  Jacobi  (the  chief 
advocate  of  an  appeal  to  the  heart  on  all  religious  questions),  but 
he  also  spoke  of  him  as  '  the  noble  Jacobi.'  In  the  preface  to  the 
second  edition  of  his  '  Encyclopssdia '  Hegel  repels,  with  great 
warmth  of  indignation,  the  charge  of  irreligioni  and  asserts  that 


470     OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  LITERATURE.     [Ch. 

some  of  his'  own  doctrines  are  identical  with  those  of  Chris* 
tianity ;  hut  he  adds,  that .  religion  has  one  vocahulary  and 
systematic  philosophy  has  another.  lie  maintains,  also,  that  his 
own  religious  views  are  more  orthodox  than  those  represented  hy 
Professor  Tholuck,  the  well-known  theologian.  In  the  same  pre- 
face, the  writer  excited  the  surprise  of  some  of  his  own  disciples 
hy  speaking  with  much  respect  of  the  religious  mysticism  of 
Bobme  and  of  his  commentator,  Franz  von  Baader,  though  the 
latter  had  controverted  some  Hegelian  doctrines.  Hegel  deserved 
fair  treatment  in  controversy ;  for  he  had  (as  Goethe  observed)  a 
remarkable  facility,  founded  on  generosity, '  of  placing  himself  in 
the  adversary's  position.'  That  he  was  a  man  capable  of  deep 
sympathy  and  possessing  refined  sentiments,  may  be  seen  in  the 
letters  addressed  to  his  two  friends,  Heinrich  Beer  and  the 
minister  Von  Altenstein,  Vhen  they  had  suffered  domestic  be- 
reavements. Nothing  can  be  kinder  and  more  delicate  than  the 
feelings  expressed  in  these  letters.  It  may  be  said  that  they  give 
proof  of  a  perfect  sympathy. 

Hegel's  character  as  a  husband  and  a  father  may  he  read  in  the 
genuine  and  unstudied  letters  he  sent  home  during  his  vacation 
tours.  They  make  us  forget  all  dry  metaphysical  lectures  and 
controversies,  while  we  share  the  professor's  youthful  joy  in 
visiting  picture-galleries,  and  listening  to  Ittdian  singers.  -  Writ- 
ing from  the  Austrian  capital,  he  says : — '  As  long  as  I  can  afford 
to  pay  for  opera-tickets,  and  can  still  save  money  enough  to  pay 
my  fare  home,  I  shall  stay  at  Vienna !  * — *  There  has  not  been 
here  an  opera-company  like  the  present  during  the  last  fifty 
years.'  He  praises  almost  everybody  and  everything — first  '  the 
excellent  Englishman '  with  whom  he  travels ;  then  the  toWns, 
canals,  meadows,  and  churches  of  the  Netherlands;  the  public 
buildings  of  Paris  (where  he  dined  with  Cousin  and  Thiers) ; 
the  kindness  of  Victor  Cousin ;  the  scenery  near  Weimar,  and 
Goethe's  cordiality,  which,  says  He|^el,  makes  one  forget  the  great 
poet  and  think  of  the  man — but  the  highest  enthusiasm  of  the 
liberated  Professor  of  Philosophy,  who  writes  like  a  youth,  is 
reserved 'for  the  Italian  singers  of  Rossini's  music  at  Vienna, 
especially  for  the  jmma  donna,  Signora  Dardanelli,  hy  whose 
melody  he  seems  to  have  been  aesthetically  fascinated. 

We  are  glad  to  pass  briefly  over  the  controversies — ^mostly 
theological — by  which  Hegel  wus  sorely  vexed,  at  times,  daring 


XXVni.]  KEGEL.  471 

the  later  years  of  his  life.  He  refers  to  these  disputes  in  the 
preface  to  the  third  edition  of  the  *  Encyclopaadia '  (1830),  which 
is  written  in  a  toneof  extreme  indignation,  and  describes  as  ^infa- 
mous '  the  charge  that  the  writer  would  '  deify  his  own  intellect.' 

In  1830  Hegel  was  appointed  Hector  of  the  University  of 
Berlin.  He  was  preparing  a  new  edition  of  his  '  Logic/  in  1831, 
when  his  labours  were  endt3d  by  a  sudden  attack  of  the  epidemic 
— Asiatic  cholera — then  prevalent.  When  he  returned  from  the 
hall  where  he  had  delivered,  with  more  facility  than^  usual,  his 
last  lecture,  he  remarked  to  his  wife, '  My  work  has  seemed  very 
light  to  me  this  morning.'  He  was  soon  afterwards  prostriited 
by  the  disease,  and,  without  suffering  pain,  died  calmly,  November 
14, 1831.  A  few  years  after  his  death,  his  writings — including, 
beside  those  already  named.  Lectures  on  the  'Philosophy  ot 
Religion,'  on  the  '  History  of  Philosophy,'  on  the  '  Philosophy  of 
History'  and  on  '^Esthetics' — were  collected  and  edited  by  a 
number  of  his  friends  and  disciples. 

Hegel's  dialectic  method  is  based  upon  a  principle  that  may  be 
found  stated,  again  and  again,  more  or  less  clearly,  in  the  writings 
of  the  greatest  of  the  mystics — Bohhe.  We  do  not  say  that 
Hegel  borrowed  that  principle  from  Bohme ;  but  merely  notice 
th^  fact  of  coincidence,  without  on  attempt  to  explain  it. 

This  statement,  that  the  centnil  thought  of  Hegel's  dialegtics 
may  be  found  in  the  mysticism  of  Bohme,  is  so  remarkable,  that 
it  must  not  be  accepted  without  a  full  investigation  of  its  grounds. 
For  these  we  refer, ^rs^,  to  Bohme's  own  ^titinga  passim  (or  to 
the  summary  of  his  doctrine  given  in  Oarri^re's  work  '  On  Philo- 
sophy in  the  Time  of  the  Reformation ') ;  secondly,  to  the  following 
passages  in  Hegel's  writings,  namely,  -pages  18-27  in  the  preface 
to  the  'Encyclopaedia'  (2nd  edition),  and  pages  147-60  in  the 
edition  of  the  same  work  published  in  1840.  As  we  have  already 
said,  Schelling's  treatise  on '  Man's  Freedom '  (published  in  1809) 
is  almost  entirely  based  on  Bohme's  mysticism.  Some  of  the  most 
eloquent  and  impressive  passages  in  that  treatise— especially  those 
which  treat  of  the  existence  of  evil  and  of  its  subordination — iflay 
be  described  as  consisting  of  little  more  than  a  paraphrase  of 
Bohme's  sayings.  But  more  than  this  may  be  asserted.  One  of 
the  leading  thoughts  of  the  lowly  theosopher  who  lived  at 
Gorlitz  served  as  a  barrier  beyond  which  the  philosophical  specu- 
lations begun  by  Schelling  and  conduded  by  Schopenhauer  could 


472  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  EITERATURE.  [Ch. 

make  no  progress.  For  proofs  of  this  second  extraordinary  state- 
ment we  refer  to  the  writings  of  Baader,  which  will  he  noticed 
in  our  next  chapter. 

Contradictions  meet  in  the  Hegelian  system  of  philosophy.  It 
was  exceedingly  ahstruse  and  difficult  in  its  processes ;  hut  it  was, 
nevertheless,  practical  in  its  results.  Without  any  expression  of 
an  opinion  on  the  merits  of  the  whole  system,  it  may  he  safelr 
asserted,  that  its  prevalence  had  important  results  in  the  treatment 
of  great  questions  belonging  to  history,  politics,  and  theology:  In 
attempting  to  give  some  faint  notions  of  these  results,  we  must, 
first  of  all,  make  a  clear  distinction  between  the  practical  conse- 
quences which  were  originally  asserted  by  Hegel  himself  and 
those  which  were,  afterwards,  assumed  to  be  fair  deductions  from 
his  teaching.  The  question  how  far  his  disciples  were  correct  in 
their  interpretations  of  his  words,  or  in  their  own  use  of  his 
method,  is  far  too  extensive  to  be  discussed  here,  and  any  attempt 
to  give  an  analysis  of  the  whole  method  would  also  lead  us  far 
beyond  our  close  limits ;  but  its  leading  motive  and  its  connec- 
tion with  preceding  systems  may  be  briefly  described.  If  we 
endeavoured  to  go  farther  thon  this  boundary,  *  words '  (as  Cole- 
ridge said)  would  '  cry  out  and  forbid ; '  for  we  have,  in  English, 
no  true  equivalents  for  the  words  Verstand,  We$en^  Aufheffen^ 
Vemunftf  and  Begriff,  as  commonly  used  in  the  Hegelian  dialectic 
me{hod.  The  reader  who  has  a  true  insight  into  the  meaning  of 
these  few  words,  so  frequently  used  by  Hegel,  knows  abeady  a 
great  part  of  his  philosophy.  For  other  readers  we  give  the 
following  brief  account,  not  of  its  process,  but  of  its  main  purpose 
and  motive. 

The  general  aim  of  Hegel  was  identical  with  that  of  the  early 
German  mystics,  and  also  with  that  of  Plate,  Spinoza,  Leibnitz, 
and  Fichte.  It  was  to  attain  the  greatest  possible  union  (not 
unity  or  identity)  in  all  the  results  of  experience  \  in  other  words, 
to  reduce  them,  if  possible,  to  one  system.  In  referring  to  the 
common  theory  of  the  mystics,  we  must  here,  at  once,  divest  it  of 
all  the  mere  accidents  with  which  it  has  been  too  often  associated 
— visions,  ecstacies,  fanciful  or  allegorical  interpretations  of 
Scripture,  ascetic  practices,  and  retirement  from  the  world.  These 
do  not  constitute  the  essence  of  mysticism.  Bohme  was  not  an 
ascetici  but  an  industrious  phoemaker,  a  married  man,  a  kind 


XXVIII.]  METAPHYSICS.  i73 

and  good  father  of  a  family.  True  and  deep  myeticism  Las  its 
source^  not  in  the  accidents  above  mentioned^  but  in  earnest 
religious  feeling  and^in  an  endeavour  to  attain  a  union  of  thought 
that  can  never  be  the  result  of  any  science  founded  on  the  under- 
standing,  or  the  power  of  analysis  and  abstraction. 

One  example  borrowed  from  religious  mysticism  may  serve  to 
make  this  assertion  clear.  A  mysterious  doctrine  in  theology 
may  be  accepted  and  held  as  true  by  a  mind  that  has  no  tendency 
whatever  towards  mysticism.'  The  mind  examines  and  finds 
sufficient  or  satisfactory  the  authority  on  which  the  said  doctrine  is 
founded,  and  then  accepts  it;  without  any  thought  of  seeking  for 
any  further  union  of  the  doctrine  w^ith  reason.  The  tenet  thus 
accepted;  the  mind  accepting  it,  and  the  final  authority  referred 
tO;  are  here  regarded  as  three  separate  constituents  of  a  faith 
founded  on  authority.  Contrast  this  process  with  one  of  Bohme'a 
assertions  respecting  his  own  faith;  and  we  see,  at  once,  the  true 
character  of  mysticism;  as  distinct  from  both  reasonings  and  sub- 
mission to  authority.  The  myistic  not  only  accepts  the  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity;  but  declares;  again  and  again,  and  earnestly 
endeavours  to  show,  that  it  is  the  one,  general  form  of  all  truth. 
Nay;  more ;  the  prevalent  aim  of  all  his  writings  is  to  make  that 
one  doctrine  serve  as  the  key  to  unlock  the  gates  of  all  other 
mysteries.  But  on  what  authority  is  this  faith  grounded  ?  On 
the  believer*s  own  intuition.  As  he  tells  us,  he  saw  the  truth 
first  in  its  own  inner  light,  and;  afterwards,  recognised  it  in  the 
Bible  and  everywhere  throughout  creation.  If  the  theosophist  of 
Gorlitz  had  succeeded  in  constructing  a  system  of  logic  and  meta- 
physics by  which  his  faith  might  have  been  made  clear  for  others, 
he  would  haye  been  classed  with  the  promoters  of  speculative 
philosophy ;  as  he  did  not  succeed  in  the  attempt;  he  is  styled 
only  the  greatest  of  the  mystics.' 

The  method  of  Hegel  was  nothing  leas  than  a  most  laborious 
and  persevering  endeavour  to  reduce  to  a  dialectic  and  systematic 
form  of  exposition  the  central  or  chief  intuition  of  all  Bohme's 
mysticism.  As  this  assertion  may  seem  very  strange  and  impro- 
bable to  some  readers,  we  refer  again  for  proofs  of  its  correctness 
to  the  following  passages  in  Hegel's  collected  writings  '.-^first^  to 
pages  18-27  in  the  preface  to  the  'Encyclopaedia '  (2nd  ed.  1827), 
including  aU  the  notes;  and,  secondly,  to  pages  147-60  in  the 


474  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEEATURE.  [Ch. 

edition  of  tbe  '  Encjclopaedia '  published  in  1840.    From  tbe 
latter  a  few  words  may  be  quoted : — 

'The  meaning  of  the  word  ** speculative "  as  nsedheTe,'  says  Hegel,  'is 
equivalent  to  that  of  the  Tvord  "  mystic,"  as  formerly  commonly  applied  to 
facts  belonging  to  the  religious  conscience.  ...  As  generally  understood, 
that  which  is  called  **  mystic  "  is  Fupposed  to  he  absolutely  mysterious,  and 
so  it  is,  but  only  for  the  understanding  (/wr  den  Verstand).  .  .  .  All  specu- 
lative and  unitive  thought  {cUles  Vemiinftige)  may  be  called  mystic;  but 
ihi;}  implies  only  th.st  it  goes  be3'ond  the  [limits  of ]  analytical  thought  (den 
Verstand),  and  not  that  it  u  generally  inaccessible  or  inconceivable.' 

It  may  be  well  to  add  to  these  statements,  that  HegeFs  ac- 
ceptance of  the  mystic's  chief  intuitions  by  no  means  included 
anything  more  than  first  principles.  It  had  no  reference  either  to 
his  theories  and  imaginative  viwes  of  physics,  or  to  his  peculiar 
interpretations  of  the  Scriptures,  or  to  his  discursive  modes  of 
reasoning  by  analogies.  On  the  contrary,  these  were  mostly 
described  by  Hegel  as  the  results  of  a  want  of  education,  and  as 
unsuccesi^ful  eflbrts  to  find  expressions  for  deep  thoughts.  But  he 
made  no  secret  of  his  agreement  on  first  and  fundamental  piinci- 
pies  with  tbe  humble  and  almost  illiterate  shoemaker  of  Gorlitz, 
whom  lie  described  as  a  man  *  of  mighty  mind,'  and  as  'deserving 
the  title  '^  Pbilosophus  Teutonicus.'' '  This  concord  of  Ilegel  and 
Bohme  is,  we  think,  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  facts  in  the 
history  of  philosophy.* 

Hegel's  originality  is  seen  in  the  laborious  development  of  a 
vast  unitive  process  of  thought,  and  not  in  the  discovery  of  a  first 
principle.  *  J  believe,'  he  said, '  that,  in  substance,  my  method  is 
implied  in  all  religions  and  in  all  philosophies.'  His  aim  was  to 
prove,  by  its  own  full  development  in  a  system,  a  principle  that 

*  We  give  faithfully,  though,  for  the  sake  of  conciseness,  partly  in  our 
own  diction,  a  statement  of  B&hme's  central  doctrine.  It  consists  of  the 
following  three  principles : — 

I.  All  existence — Divine  and  Natural— has  its  source  in  a  Union  of  Affir- 
mation with  Negation.  The  word  *  Yea  *  is  the  first  ntteranoe  of  Eternal 
Divine  Life  and  Power ;  but  the  affirmation,  in  itself  and  alone,  would  be 
inconceivable.  It  could  find  no  resistance  to  be  overcome  by  Power,  and  no 
object  to  call  forth  the  exercise  of  Love,  which  is  the  essence  of  the  Divine 
Nature. 

II.  There  must  be,  therefore,  *  an  Eternal  Ground '  [or  condition]  of 
dudity,  a  power  of  differentiation,  as  the  Source  of  all  life  and  creative 
energy. 

III.  But  this  duality  impliea  no  such  fixed  division  as  is  seen  in  the  ex- 
ternal world,  but  is  eternally  tranamuted  into  Union. 


XXVIII.]  DIALECTICS.  475 

\ 
bad  been  maintained  by  Proclus,  as  well  as  by  Bobme,  and  wbicb 

bad  been  also  asserted  in  a  rhapsodical  style  by  Ilamann.  To 
develope  this  principle  'of  the  coincidence  of  opposites ' — as  Ha- 
mann  used  to  call  it — Hegel  made  use  of  a  dialectic  method  which 
accorded  with  the  doctrine  of  Spinoza  and  Kant ;  namely,  that  a 
logical  succession  and  imion  of  thoughts  must  coincide  with  the 
succession  and  union  taking  place  in  the  objects  of  thought. 
Now  the  universal  form  of  succession  in  objects  is  expressed  in 
the  first  concrete  thought  of  *  becoming  *  (das  Werden)^  and  this 
implies  a  coincidence  of  the  opposites  of  being  and  not-being.* 
If  we  maintain  the  existence  of  one  of  these  opposites  as  a  separato 
or  abstract  thought,  or  so  as  to  exclude  the  other,  we  rest  satisfied 
'with  the  iirst  or  dogmatic  stage  in  thinking.  If  we  use  each  of 
the  opposites  only  to  contradict  the  other,  then  we  make  a  de- 
fective use  of  dialectics,  so  as  to  lead  to  scepticism.  If  we  gi'asp 
the  opposites  in  theii  own  logical  and  concrete  union  we  have 
their  truth —the  concept  {der  Begriff), 

By  begiuning  thus  with  the  comparatively  barren  notion  of 
'  a  becoming  '  (or  a  beginning  to  exist),  and  by  proceeding  from  it 
to  richer  and  truer  conceptions,  it  might  seem  that  we  developed 
the  higher  from  the  lower,  and  the  greater  from  the  less.  This  ia 
not  Hegel's  meaning.  The  dialectic  process  must  be  understood 
as  a  method  used  in  the  exploration  of  truth,  and  that  which 
appears  last^  aa  the  result  of  our  enquiry,  is,  itself,  a  prim. 
In  the  End  we  find  the  true  Beginning.  The  less  concrete 
thoughts  may  be  said  to  pas8  away,  or  rather  to  be  at  once  sub- 
ordinated and  contained  [in  one  word,  aufffehobeii]  in  the  highest 
concrete  thought — the  Idea — in  which  all  other  concepts  are  at 

once  distinguished  and  united. 

■ 
*  It  ia  on  account  of  this  statement  that  Hegel's  whole  system  has  been 
described  aa  baaid  on  the  assertion  ot  an  absurdity  : — A«i  —A.  The  Jirst 
concrete  thought  we  have,  says  Hegel,  is  that  of  becoming  (daa  Werden)^  and 
in  this  the  abstract  thoughts  of  being  and  its  negation  are  united.  Apart 
from  their  onion  in  the  concrete  notion  of  becoming,  they  are  mere  abstrac- 
tions. As  common  sense  never  thinks  of  abstractions,  and  can  therefore 
maintain  no  proposition  whatever  respecting  thenif  it  follows,  that  meta- 
physics when  treating  of  the  first  elements  of  thought  cannot  contradict 
'  common  sense.'  It  must  not  be  imagined  that  these  mere  rudimehts  are 
described  by  Hegel  as  important  parts  of  his  system.  On  the  contrary,  he 
calls  *  the  first  concrete  or  unitive  thought '  itself  *  a  very  barren  definition.* 
It  is,  he  aaya,  again  and  again,  in  the  study  of  such  subjects  as  life,  organi- 
sation, government,  freedom,  religion,  art,  and  philosophy  itself^  that  the 
interest  of  philosophy  consists. 


476  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

As  practical  men  have  nothing  to  do  with  ahstract  notions,  it 
must  happen  that,  when  an  attempt  is  made  to  give  an  account  of 
the  least  concrete  forms  of  thinking,  the  true  meaning  will  be 
liable  to  be  mistaken.  It  might,  at  a  first  glance,  appear  as  if 
Hegel  passed  over  as  altogether  false  the  first  act  of  thought — ^the 
assertion  of  a  definition  without  reference  to  its  dialectic  moment. 
For  this  first  act  of  thought,  which  he  describes  as  the  function  of  . 
'the  Understanding'  (der  Verstand)^  he  vindicates  a  high  im- 
portance in  all  the  departments  of  study,  and  especially  .in  law 
and  in  practical  life.  The  sharp  definite  outlines  of  laws,  he  says, 
must  not  be  washed  away  by  casuietiy  or  spurious  dialectics,  but 
must  be  maintained,  in  their  own  right  place,  although  they  are 
inevitably  partly  arbitrary.  There  is  great  force  in  the  common* 
saying,  '  The  line  must  be  drawn  somewhere.'  In  a  word,  the 
definitive  understanding  has  its  rights  \  but  it  is  not  a  final  court 
of  appeal.  Anarchy  is  not  despotism,  says  common  sense ;  for 
anarchy  has  no  head,  and  despotism  has  nothing  but  a  head. 
True  \  but  lea  extrSmea  se  touchefnt,  and  despotism  arises  out  of 
anarchy. 

The  results  of  dialectics  may  be  made  to  appear  absurd  in  the 
treatment  of  the  least  concrete  notions ;  but  are  found  important 
as  we  proceed  to  treat  of  higher  thoughts.  A  reader  who  is 
puzzled  by  the  abstractions  of  '  being '  and  '  nothing '  that  meet 
in  the  notion  of  '  becoming '  will  at  once  see  some  truth  in  the 
coincidence  of  the  apparently  opposite  notions  of  freedom  and  law. 
Their  opposition  is  so  strong  that,  unhappily,  many  minds  can 
never  grasp  the  two  as  one.  Yet  what  is  abstract  freedom  in 
itself  but* a  mere  wilful  negation  of  all  the  bonds  of  society? 
And,  on  the  other  side,  what  are  just  laws  but  necessary  means 
for  the  attainment  of  true  flreedom  P  Grasp  the  two  thoughts  in 
their  own  union,  and  you  have  the  far  higher  and  richer  or  more 
comprehensive  thought  of  a  true  and  spiritual  liberation  of  the 
will  from  the  slavery  of  nature  and  egoism — the  act  of  liberation 
which  expresses  itself  as  personality  in  the  word  I.  The  same 
true  and  unitive  freedom  is  felt  as  well  as  thought  of  as  the  love 
that  finds  its  own  interests  in  those  of  othera  So  the  law  that 
demands  the  sacrifice  of  the  first  false  and  egotistic  freedom  leads 
to  the  development  of  another  and  a  higher  freedom  which  is 
identi<^  with  true  happiness.  This  unitive  process  is  expressed 
in  the  ethics  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  also  in  the  highest 


XXVni.]  DIALECTICS.  477 

poetry.  Wobdswobth,  for  example,  in  hia  noble  '  Ode  to  Duty/ 
speaks  thus  of  the  negative  freedom  that  is  identical  with 
slaveiy : — 

Me  this  uncbflOrtered  freedom  tires ; 

I  feel  the  weight  of  chance-desires.    •    .    . 

I  long  for  a  repose  that  always  is  the  same. 

And  then  follows  a  stanza  which  contains  the  genuine  doctrine 
of  freedom,  clothed  in  the  language  of  splendid  poetry.  We  have 
already  referred  to  it  (ante,  Chapter  XYU.),  but  cannot  forbear 
quoting  it  in  full : — 

Stem  Lawoiyeb  ! — i/et  thou  dost  if  ear 

The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace  j 

Nor  Jknow  we  anything  so  fair 

As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face : 

Flowers  laugh  before  thee  on  their  beds. 

And  fragrance  in  thy  footing  treads ; 

Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong 

And  the  most  ancient  heavens  through  thee  are  fresh  and  strong. 

Hegel,  if  he  had  read  Wordsworth's  poems,  would  have  been 
greatly  delighted  with  the  bold  antitheses  melted  down  and 
welded  in  that  stanza,  which  gives  the  poetry  of  the  dialectic 
method. 

The  process  becomes  clearer  as  it  advances  higher  and  higher 
towards  its  goal — to  find  aH  truth  in  the  one  absolute  idea  of 
God,  which,  as  an  English  divine  (Robert  Hall)  says,  '  gathers 
into  itself  all  that  is  ftdr,  and  true,  and  good/  and  '  is  enthroned 
on  the  riches  of  the  universe/  But  our  limited  space  forbids  our 
saying  more  on  this  point ;  for  we  now  approach  the  passage  that 
to  many  minds  presents  the  most  formidable  difficulty  in  the  whole 
system  of  the  Hegelian  philosophy.  It  is  the  transition  from  the 
Divine  Idea  to  the  development  of  Nature.  It  would  merely 
show  that  we  knew  nothing  of  the  hard  problem,  if  we  attempted 
to  give  here  any  brief  solution.  In  passing,  we  may  obsei've  that 
the  greater  part  of  Franz  von  Baader*s  abstruse  gnosis  is  occupied 
with  this  one  problem,  and  indeed,  the  whole  of  Bohme's  mys* 
ticism  arose,  not  from  any  intellectual  pride,  but  from  an  earnest 
struggle  against  the  temptations  and  doubts  suggested  by  views 
of  real  life. 

Hegel's  logic  concludes  with  a  definition  of  the  Absolute  Idea, 


478  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

aa  a  union  of  soul  and  hodj,  and  as  a  Life  including  in  itself  all 
the  conditions  of  its  own  existence  and  development.  On  the 
contrary,  the  general  form  of  Nature  is  a  division;  a  disunion,  of 
which  time  and  space  are  the  conditions.  How  can  the  Idea  and 
Nature  be  united  P  Because,  says  Hegel,  the  Idea  is  absolute, 
and  includes  in  itself  all  conceivable  union — even  a  mediation 
between  union  and  disunion.  It  is  for  the  sake  of  developing,  by 
means  of  a  strong  disunion,  a  richer  and  deeper  life  and  union, 
that  the  free  and  absolute  Idea  represents  itself  in  Nature  and 
returns  to  itself  through  the  progresHive  development  of  the  mind. 
The  transition  from  the  Idea  to  actual  Nature  is  otherwise  re- 
presented in  £ohme*s  gnosis  as  '  The  Fall,*  or  as  the  degradation 
of  a  primeval  nature  in  which  the  Divine  Idea  is  perfectly  repre- 
sented. This  is  the  most  important  point  on  which  the  teaching 
of  Bohme  and  Baader  differs  from  that  of  Hegel. 

In  Nature  we  find  no  perfect  expressions  either  of  the  definitions 
and  oppositions  or  of  the  unitive  concepts  of  logic,  and  we  find  no 
freedom.  The  Idea  is  therefore  described  as  alienated  from 
itself,  and  as  if  concealed  from  itself,  when  represented  as  Nature ; 
but  also  as  ever  striving  towards  redintegration.  All  the  evil  that 
Bohme  ascribes  to  '  the  Fall '  is  included  here  under  such  mild 
terms  as  'the  defect,'  'the  imperfection,'  or  'the  feebleness^ 
(Ohnmacht)  of  Natmre.  Hegel's  notion  of  power  is  that  of  the 
grasp  of  one  idea  extending  over  many  subordinate  expressions. 
This  is  felt  as  the  j>ower  of  gravitation  in  Mechanics ;  but  here 
the  several  parts  of  a  system,  though  held  in  connection  with  a 
centre,  are  still  so  many  parts  destitute  of  the  closer  union  that  is 
found  in  Physics. 

Several  remarkable  conclusions  in  the  philosophy  of  Nature 
must  be  passed  over  with  the  merely  historical  statement,  that 
they  are  opposed  to  the  teaching  of  eminent  men  of  authority  in 
physical  sdenoe.  Hegel  denounced  Newton'a  theory  of.optics,  and 
defended  Goethe's  doctrine  of  colours ;  he  denied  the  theory  of  de- 
velopment now  commonly  known  as  'the  Darwinian,'  and  he  main- 
"tained  that  meteoric  stones  might  be  formed  out  of  the  atmosphere. 
One  of  his  statements,  that  excited  great  surprise,  was  to  the  effect 
that  the  whole  array  of  the  fixed  stars  in  the  heavens  was,  to  his 
mind,  less  interesting  as  an  object  of  contemplation  than  the 
meanest  form  of  animal  life;  'for,'  said  he,  'Uie  concrete  and 
organic  is  more  than  the  abstract'    He  seems  to  have  presomed 


.XXVin.]  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  NATUBE.  479 

*  that  if  organisation  existed  in  the  groups  of  the  fixed  stars,  it  must 
have  the  power  of  making  itself  manifest  in  BerliiL  Here,  how- 
ever, he  was  again  consistent  with  his  own  central  thought — that 
all  truth  lives  in  union,  and  that  a  striving  towards  redintegration, 
is  the  animating  principle,  or  Soul  of  the  World.  It  advances 
through  Physics  to  a  clearer  assertion  of  its  aim  in  Chemistry ; 
then-  makes  itself  still  more  manifest  in  the  organism  of  the 
animaly  and,  at  last,  comes  into  the  daylight  of  self-consciousness 
in  Man. 

This  leads  ns  to  fiegel's  doctrine  of  Man,  his  History  and  his 
Destiny.  He  is  bom  in  Nature,  but  it  is  his  destination  to  come 
out  of  or  to  rise  above  Nature,  and  to  attain  the  freedom  that 
essentially  belongs  to  the  Mind.  His  first  act  of  overcoming  the 
separations  of  natural  life  is  to  recognise  himself  in  others ;  or  to 
know  his  fellow-men  as,  in  substance,  identical  with  himself. 
This  act  of  mutual  recognition  introduces  a  transition  from  the 
natural  beHum  omnium  contra  omnea  ('the  warfare  of  everyone 

'  -  against  everyone  *)  into  a  rational  and  social  state  of  life.  The 
private  and  egotistic  will  becomes  social  and  objective,  and  ex- 
presses itself  in  the  sacred  dictates  of  just  laws.  The  morality  of 
the  individual  is  imperfect  or  one-sided,  so  long  as  it  does  no 
recognise  itself  in  the  essential  institutions  and  conditions  of 
society.  Of  these  one  of  the  first  is  marriage,  which,  says  Hegel, 
should  be  regarded,  not  as  an  affair  of  sentiment  or  passion,  bu 
as  a  bond  including  the  strictest  obligations.  Its  dissolution 
should  always  be  made  as  difficult  as  possible.  Facile  divorce  is 
the  road  to  social  dissolution.  The  self-government  of  men  in 
their  municipAl  c6rporations  should  train  a  people  to  recognise 
the  State  as  supreme,  and  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  limited  and 
representative  monarchy.   . 

We  have  next  to  notice  Ilegers  doctrine  of  freedom,  which 
may  be  stated,  in  a  few  part^raphs,  as  follows : — 

The  progress  of  mankind,  of  which  history  is  the  record,  bfls  for  its  aim, 
says  Hegel,  the  liberation  of  men  from  their  natural  bondofire  under  the 
sway  of  their  passions  and  their  restoration  to  the  freedom  which  belongs 
essentially  to  the  mind  of  man.  This  freedom  must  be  at  once  internal 
and  external,  including,  first,  liberation  from  an  innate'  servitude  to  nature, 
and,  second]}',  freedom  of  action  in  accordance  with  laws  founded  in  uni-* 
versa!  reason.  The  aim  of  the  world's  progress  is  to  realise  more  and  more 
this,  the  common  libertv  of  many  persons  acting  in  concert  and  as  having 
one  will— a  freedom  that  shall  be  outwardly  expressed  in  just  institution^ 


480  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUBB.  [Ch. 

and  inwardly  enjoyed  in  a  cheerfal  assent  to  external  laws.  There  the  mind 
shall  find  in  external  institations  only  the  expressions  of  its  own  true 
thoughts,  and  in  this  union  of  the  mind  with  the  social  and  political  world 
there  can  exist  no  sense  of  bondage  ;  for  all  bondage  implies  disunion. 

The  three  chief  stages  in  the  development  of  the  idea  of  freedom  may  bo 
named  respectively  the  Oriental,  the  Antique-European  (pr  Grecian),  and 
the  Christian.  In  the  first  stage — Oriental  Despotism — one  monarchic  wiU 
alone  is  free.  The  eastern  despot  is  the  solitary  '  Ego  ;  *  the  constitutional 
king  is  the  dot  placed  over  the  letter  L  When  Friedrich  Wilhelm  III.  was 
told  that  Hegel  had  called  the  King  of  Prussia  'a  dot,'  he  only  replied,  with 
good  humour, '  Well ;  but  the  dot  is  wanted  to  make  the  letter  confplete.' 

A  true  king,  says  Hegel,  represents  the  WiU  of  Reason  as  supreme  over 
all  self-will,  including  his  own.  In  a  despotic  State,  morals,  laws,  and  re- 
ligious institutions  are  all  external,  or,  in  other  words,  are  not  reflected  in 
the  individual  conscience.  They  may  be,  or  indeed  must  be,  more  or  less 
unitive  and  reasonable,  '  for  <God  governs  the  world  ;*'  but  they  are  not 
firmly  based  upon  moral  freedom.  The  great  work  of  the  ancient  free  states 
of  Greece  was,  therefore,  to  prevent  the  spread  of  Oriental  Despotism  in 
Europe.  Hence  the  battles  of  Marathon,  ThermopylsB,  and  Platcea  were 
fought  for  the  interest  of  the  whole  world,  and  Alexander's  victories  were 
made  agents  for  extending  civilisation  and  culture. 

But  the  development  of  freedom  in  the  states  of  antiquity  was  partiaL 
It  existed  there  in  a  harsh  contrast  with  the  condition  of  the  slaves.  Free- 
dom was  a  special  privilege  enjoyed  by  the  citizens  of  a  certain  state,  but 
was  not  defined  as  the  general  destination  of  man.  The  Athraians  had, 
indeed,  no  true  general  ideas  either  of  God  or  of  man.  *The  God  of  the 
Nations '  was,  for  the  Athenians,  *  an  unknown  God.'  Accordingly,  there 
was  an  absolute  gulph  left  between  themselves  and  all  barbariims  ;  in  other 
words,  all  the  peoples  who  were  not  Greeks.  The  question  has  been  raised, 
*why  has  the  institution  of  slavery  disappeared  from  modem  Europe*?' 
and  first  one  ground,  then  another,  has  been  referred  to,  in  order  to  explain 
the  remarkable  fact.  But  the  true  ground  is  found  only  in  the  essential 
principle  of  Christianity  itself.  The  Christian  religion  is  the  religion  of 
absolute  freedom.  .  .  . 

This  gpreat  thought  that  freedom  is  the  universal  destination  of  man  was 
first  introduced  to  the  world  by  the  Christian  rejigion,  an^  can  be  realised 
only  by  a  universal  sway  of  Christian  morality, 

Hegel  had  the  highest  admiration  of  the  poetry  and  the  ar- 
tistic culture  of  the  ancient  Greeks ;  but  he  described  their  religion 
— *  the  religion  of  beauty ' — as  too  shallow  to  be  permanent.  It 
could  not,  he  says,  endure  a  philosophical  investigation.  On  the 
contrary,  he  speaks  of  Christianity  as  'the  absolute  revealed 
religion/  and  as  revealing  truth  in  the  form  in  which  '  it  must 
appear  for  all  mankind.'  He  speaks  of  a  rejection  of  what  be 
calls  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  Christianity  on  account  of  some 
*  associated  historic  doubts  and  difficulties  as  '  foolish  and  pitiable  * 
(Idppisch  und  erharrnUch),  He  thus  describes  the  true  idea  of 
Christian  freedom : — 


xxym.]  FKEEDOM.  481 

It  is  in  the  Christian  religipn  alone  that  the  basis  of  a  general  and  ]tn>- 
gressive  freedom  is  found.  The  law  of  an  external  liberation  of  slaves  is 
derived  from  the  Authority  who  also  demands  that  our  internal  liberation 
should  be  reSlised,  and  the  two  laws  can  never  be  separated.  Moral 
liberation  and  political  freedom  must  advance  together.  The  process  must 
demand  sonie  vast  space  of  time  for  its  full  realisation ;  but  it  is  the  law  of 
the  world's  progress  and  the  Teutonic  nations  are  destined  to  cany  it  into 
effect.  The  Reformation  was  an  indispensable  preparation  for  this  great 
work. 

The  history  of  the  world  is  a  record  of  the  endeavours  made  to  realise  the 
idea  of  freedom  and  of  a  progress  surely  made,  but  not  without  many 
intervals  of  apparent  failure  and  retrogression.  Among  all  modem  failures 
the  French  Revolution  of  the  eighteenth  century  is  the  most  remarkahle. 
It  was  an  endeavour  to  realise  a  boundless  external  liberation  without  the 
indispensable  condition  of  moral  freedom.  Abstract  notions  based  merely 
on  the  understanding,  and  having  no  power  to  control  the  natural  wills  of 
men,  assumed  the  functions  of  morality  and  religion,  and  so  ed  to  the 
dissolution  of  society  and  to  the  social  and  political  difficulties  in  the  midst 
of  which  we  are  now  labouring.  The  progress  of  freedom  can  never  be 
aided  by  ^  revolution  that  has  not  been  preceded  by  a  religious  reformation. 

Hegel  spoke  (in  1833)  of  a  time  coming  when  Atomism  would 
previdl  in  politics,  as  onoe  in  physical  science,  and  men  would 
'  put  down  a  government^  simply  because  it  was  a  government' 
In  the  concluding  sections  of  his  '  Encyclopesdia '  (1st  edition^ 
1817)  Hegel  speaks  still  more  distinctly,  if  possible,  of  the  indis- 
soluble union  of  true  morals  and  religion  with  free  and  firm 
political  institutions.  His  statements  here  are  so  far  unlike  some 
of  the  tendencies  that  hav»  been  commonly  ascribed  to  hia 
teaching,  that  a  summary  of  several  paragraphs  may,  perhaps,  be 
found  interesting: — 

Morality,  says  Hegel,  is  the  substance  of  the  State ;  or^  in  other  words, 
the  State  is  the  development  and  affirmation  of  the  people's  united  moral 
will ;  but  Rt/ligion  is  the  substance  of  both  moral  and  political  life.  The 
State  is  founded  on  the  moral  character  of  the  people,  and  their  Morality  is 
founded  on  their  Religion.  Laws  are  accepted  as  just  and  right,  so  far  as 
they  are  generally  felt  and  known  to  be  the  practical  dictates  of  a  true 
Religion.  By  an  inquir}'  into  the  ba»e$  of  Morals  we  are  thus  led  back  to 
Religion,  and,  with  regard  to  the  education  of  the  individual,  it  is  true  that 
he  can  be  1^  only  through  ethics  to  a  true  knowledge  of  the  Divine 
Character.  There  is  no  other  way  that  leads  to  a  true  Religion,  and  thus 
it  might  appear,  that  Morals  should  be  described  as  the  basis  of  Religion. 
But  this  is  true  only  with  respect  to  the  sequence  that  takes  place  in  our 
training.  The  basis  of  the  laws  to  which  men  submit  must  exist  prior  to 
all  the  laws  that  are  founded  upon  it.  It  is  the  root  from  which  they 
spring,  or  the  underlying  substance  of  their  existence.  Apart  tnm  tJl 
metaphysical  discussions  on  the  relations  of  Religion  and  Morals,  the  truth 
remains,  that  they  nuiit  ever  be  viewed  a$  inteparable.  There  cannot  be  two 
consciences  in  a  man,  one  for  practical  and  another  for  religious  interests. 

II 


482  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  .[Ch. 

Accordingly,  as  be  deeply  and  sincerely  believes,  so  l)e  will  act.  Religion 
must  be  the  baas  of  Morals,  and  Morality  must  be  the  foundation  of  a 
SUte.  ^ 

We  give  the  next  passage  in  a  strict  and  close  form  of  transla- 
tion, and  in  italics,  in  order  that  there  may  be  left  no  doubf 
whatever  respecting  the  writer's  own  assertions : — 

*Itt8  the  monstrous  error  of  our  times  to  wish  to  regard  these 
inseparables '  [religion,  morals,  and  politics]  ^  as  if  they  were  sepa- 
rable^ one  frmn  the  others  ;  yea,  as  if  they  were  even  indifferent  to 
one  another.  Accordingly^  the  relation  ofMeUgion  with  the  State  is 
viewed  as  if  the  latter,  first  of  ail,  had  an  independent  eaistenee  in 
itself  by  virtue  of  some  might  and  authority  *  [not  derived  from 
religion]  '  — as  if  the  religious  element  might  be  viewed  apart,  either 
as  a  aubfective  disposition  of  individuals,  inducing  thetn  to  yidd 
obedience  to  the  State,  or  as  (m  indifferent  matter,  or,  at  best,  as 
merely  desirable  as  an  aid  in  supporting  the  Staters  authority* 
[This  separatist  doctrine  implies,  in  short,  the  assumption  that] 
'  the  State's  whole  moral  system,  including  its  constitution  and  its  laws, 
as  founded  on  reason,  can  stand  of  itself  and  on  its  own  ground,* 
[apart  from  all  religious  sanctions]. 

Thus  Hegel  describes  what  he  designates  *  the  monstrous  error 
of  our  times.'  He  then  goes  on  to  say,  that  a  religion  founded 
only  on  tradition  and  external  authority  can  supply  no  basis  for 
the  institutions  of  a  free  State,  ^en  must  be  made  internally 
free  before  they  can  dnjoy  a  true  and  unitive  political  freedom. 
They  inust  be  subject  neither  to  the  bondage  of  nature  [their  own 
passions]  nor  to  religious  despotism ;  but  must  learn  to  recognise' 
their  own  true*  character  in  the  institutions  to  which  they  yield  a 
willing  obedience.  The  problem  of  realising  this  true  spiritual 
and  political  freedom  is  admitted  to  be  both  complex  and  difficulty 
and  therefore,  it  is  said,  the  process  of  the  world's  history  is  long; 
but  all  attempts  to  find  a  shorter  way  to  freedom  are  only  retro- 
gressive, and  a  union  and  order  founded  merely  on  an  external 
authority  cannot  be  permanent.  In  conclusion,  Hegel  asserts  that 
the  Ultramontane  theory  of  religious  authority  can  never  be  made 
to  accord  with  any  political  institutions  that  are  not  despotic 
No  government  can  be  safe,  he  says,  while  the  people  regard  it  as 
existing  apart  from  all  the  sanctions  of  religion  which  are  found 
on  the  outside  of  the  State.  The  religion  of  a  people  must  be 
immanent  in  their  political  and  social  institutiona. 


XXVni.]  -ESTHETICS.  483 

These  summaries  and  quotations  can  leave  no  doubt  of  the 
author's  general 'teaching  respecting  the  union  of  politics  and 
religion.  But  the  important  questions  remain : — ^What  is  the 
substance  of  the  religion  here  spoken  of?  What  is  its  definite 
historical  form?  Is  its  doctrine  fairly  represented  in  such  a 
treatise  as  *  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New'  by  Dr.  Sti^auss?— 
These  questions  are  leading  on  to  the  great  controversy  of  the 
future. 

It  is  but  little  space  that  we  have  left  for  a  notice  of  HegeFa 
doctrine  of  iSsthetics.  The  individual  man,  we  are  told^  must  rise 
above  his  early  subjection  to  Nature,  must  subdue  its  passions, 
and  make  himself,  to  a  certain  degree,  independent  of  its  cares 
and  perturbations,  before  he  can  enjoy  in  Art  the  expression  of 
Ideas  through  a  sensuous  medium.  He  is  then  able  to  contemplate 
Nature  as  a  transparent  veil  through  which  Divine  Ideas  are 
shining.  In  Architecture  the  material  element  prevails  over  the 
intellectual.  In  Sculpture  every  part  of  the  material  employed 
serves  the  purpose  of  expressing  the  Idea ;  but  the  soul  still  finds 
no  perfectly  adequate  expression.  Something  is  wanting  to  ani- 
mate the  work  of  Art ;  and  this  animating  Soul,  with  its  rich 
and  powerful  laoguage  of  lights  and  shades,  as  well  as  forms  and 
colours  and  softly-blending  or  dearly-contrasted  tones,  finds  a 
higher  expression  in  Painting.  Art  finds  a  more  subjective  form 
of  expression  in  the  sensations  and  emotions  that  are  blended  in 
Music.  Then  all  the  powers  of  Art  are  united  in  Poetiy.  The 
richer  and  deeper  the  thought  expressed  in  a  poem,  the 
higher  the  value  of  poetry ;  but  the  tiiought  must  be  clothed  by 
imagination  and  not  barely  presented  as  in  science.  Thus  the 
'  Antigone '  of  Sophocles  is  a  sublime  tragedy,  of  which  the  form 
is  truly  dramatic,  while  the  substance  is  a  preifound  kuth — the 
assertion  of  divine  and  eternal  laws : — 

aypavra  KdaipaXrj  9tuv 
vdfiiva,  •  •  • 

A  higher  union  than  that  which  Art  can  reveal  is  found  in 
Heligion,  of  which  the  essence  is  a  reconciliation  of  the  Infi- 
nite with  the  Finite.  In  its  earliest  stage,  Religion  appears  as  a 
prostration  of' the  mind  under  the  deified  powers  of  nature; 
then  follows  Judaism,  'the  religion  of  sublimity,' — a  faith  in 
one  Supreme  Intelligence  and  Moral  Will  as  the  Buler  of  an 

xi2 


484  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEBATTJRE.  [Ch. 

elect  people.  This  ia  contrasted  with  Hellenism,  *  the  religion  of 
beauty/  in  which  men,  or  the  attributes  of  men,  appear  as  gods, 
but  without  a  true  and  powerful  subordination  of  Nature.  The 
gods  of  Greece  were  not  spiritual  By  the  Christian  Religion 
alone,  the  eternally  true  and  real  union  of  the  Diyine  with  the 
Human  is  revealed  in  the  sufferings  of  the  Mediator  and  in  the 
forgiveness  of  sins.  The  gods  of  the  cultured  heathen  world  be- 
longed to  a  remote  and  imaginary  sphere.  '  Through  the  Me- 
diator this  common,  real  world,  this  state  of  lowliness  in  which  we 
dwell,  has  become  no  longer  despicable— has  even  been  conse- 
crated.' 

Hegel  concludes  his  *  Encydopcedia '  by  quoting,  as  expressive 
of  his  own  doctrine  respecting  the  Absolute,  the  well-known  and 
sublime  passage  in  Aristotle's  '  Metaphysics '  (XL  7),  ending  with 
the  words — 

ToSto  7^^  6  'OsJf. 

• 

The  final  result  is,  that  in  the  End  is  found  the  True  Be^nning 
— God,  who  is  before  all  things  and  in  whom  all  things  have  their 
being.  The  Mind,  after  all  research,  finds  rest  nowhere  but  in 
the  thought  of  Lifinite  Power^  Wisdom,  and  Love  concentrated  in 
Onb — 

Whose  everlasting  purposes  embraoe 
All  accidents,  converting  them  to  good* 

English  readers  will  accept  high  speculation,  if  given  in  the 
form  of  verse,  as  we  find  it  in  poetry  written  by  Vaughan,  Words- 
worth, and  by  our  laureate,  in  his  in  Memonam,  Hegel's  final 
teaching  may  be  found  in  one  of  the  finest  sermons  ever  vnritten 
in  English  verse.  We  refer  to  the  fourth  book  of  Wordsworth's 
<  Excursion*' 


XXIX.]         PHILOSOPHIOAL  CONTROVERSIES.  486 


CHAPTBB  XXTX. 


FBILOSOPEICAL  OOinSOTBBSIBS — ^HBRBABT — aOEOVEXtJLLVKB — BLLDVEL 

EBQEUAN  SCHOOL — ^BU.TBBIAULSK. 


Thb  time  when,  in  Germany,  the  theories  of  Kant,  Fichte,  Schel« 
ling,  and  Hegel  were  studied  with  ardent  enthusiasm  has  passed 
away.  We  cannot  pretend  here  to  assign  all  the  true  causes  of 
.the  revolution  in  thought  that  has  taken  place  since  1830 ;  but  some 
circumstances  that  have  hastened  its  progress  are  evident  enough. 
These  are,  firstly,  the  controversies  between  rival  systems  of  phi- 
losophy and  the  divisions  made  in  the  Hegelian  School ;  secondly, 
the  influence  of  inductive  studies  of  physical  science  which  were 
partly  promoted  by  Schopenhauer's  writings ;  and  thirdly,  the 
rapid  growth  of  a  practical  materialism.  The  literature  repre- 
senting these  movements  must  be  noticed. 

Of  the  metaphysical  controversy  that  arose  soon  after  1830 
little  can  be  said  here.  The  whole  design  of  the  Hegelian 
method,  which  was  to  find  the  unity  of  a  system  ruling 
throughout  all  the  sciences^  was  condemned  as  erroneous  by 
JoHANV  Fbiedrich  Herbart  (1776-1841),  the  author  of  a 
'Universal  Practical  Philosophy'  (1808).  Among  his  other 
writings  the  most  remarkable  and  important  is  the  treatise  on 
*  Psychology  as  a  Science,'  in  which  he  employs  a  mathematical 
method.  For  detidls  respecting  a  purely  logical  and  metaphysical 
dispute  on  the  merits  of  the  dialectic  method,  the  writings  of  Karl 
Michelet,  Trendelenberg  and  Kuno  Fischer  may  be  referred  to. 
More  important  controversies,  involving  religious  and  political 
interests,  soon  followed,  and  of  these  some  account  may  be 
giTen. 

ScHELUKd  in  his  latest  teaching  (1841-<54),  which  may  be  . 
found  in  the  last  four  volumes  of  his  collected  works  (1856-61), 


486  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAK  LTTERATUBK  [Cx. 

asserted  a  doctrine  of  Monotheiam,  as  distinct  from  both  Theism 
and  Fantheisnu  It  had  been  asserted  that,  instead  of  the  idea  of 
a  Supreme  Personal  Being,  the  first  theory  of  Fichte  had  substi- 
tuted an  immanent  moral  government  of  the  world,  and  it  was 
afterwards  declared  as  a  .fact,  that  Hegel  had  reduced  the  same 
idea  to  an  immanent  intellectual  process.  In  opposition  to  this 
negative  philosophy,  as  he  called  it^  Schelling  in  his  latest  series 
of  lectures  delivered  at  Berlin,  asserted  the  transcendence  of  the 
Divine  Mind.  In  other  parts  of  his  latest  teaching,  Schelling's 
Coctrines  mostly  accorded  with  those  of  Franz  von  Baader,  who, 
in  several  of  hiB  abstruse  and  discursive  writings,  had  controverted 
certain  tendencies  of  the  Hegelian  SchooL 

Before  noticing  Baader's  gnosis  or  theory,  it  may  be  well  to  refer 
to  a  remarkable  book  first  published  in  1819.  Though  it  was  one 
of  the  clearest  works  ever  written  on  the  subjects  of  which  it 
treated,  it  fell  dead  from  the  press,  and  remained  almost  uttt'jrly 
unnoticed  until  1844,  when  a  second  edition  appeared.  This  re- 
markable book  was  entitled  Die  Welt  ah  Wide  %md  Vorstdlung 
('The  World  as  Will  and  Bepresentation '),  and  was  written  by 
Abthttb  ScHOFENHAiTER,  already  mentioned  (in  Chapter  XXIII.) 
as  the  son  of  the  novelist  Johanna  Schopenhauer.  His  main  pur- 
port was  to  show  that  the  questions  discussed  by  metaphysidans 
and  theologians  belonged  to  a  realm  of  shadows  rather  than  to  the 
real,  living,  and  practical  world.  He  asserted,  in  short,  that  while 
professors  lectured  on  the  respected  values  of  intellectual  systems, 
they  were  neglecting  the  realities  by  which  the  course  of  the 
world  IB  governed. 

Arthur  ScHOFEKkAUER  was  bom  at  Danzig  in  1788.  In  early 
life  he  visited  England,  and  spent  some  mo/iths  in  an  English 
school.  He  subsequently  studied  at  Gottingen  and  Berlin,  and 
resided  for  some  time  in  Weimar,  where  he  was  acquainted  with 
Goethe,  who  described  his  Mend  as  ^a  young  man  not  under- 
stood.' His  reading  was  very  extensive  and  discursive,  including 
French  and  English  as  well  as  Oriental  literature  and  philosophy; 
but  of  German  systems  of  metaphysics — excepting  Kant's — ^he 
always  spoke  witji  contempt  His  chief  work,  the  original  and 
clearly  written  treatise  entitled  Die  Welt  ale  WUle  und  Vorstelktnff, 
was  produced,  as  the<  author  says,  with  very  little  trouble,  before 
1818.  After  travelling  in  Italy,  he  returned  to  Berlin,  whence  he 
was  driven  by  his  fear  of  the  epidemic  there  prevalent  in  1881 


XXIX.]  SCHOPENHAUER.  487 

He  afterwards  lived  about  thirty  jeara,  as  a  rather  gloomy  hennit; 
at  Frankfurt,  where  he  died  suddenly  in  1860. 

His  chief  work,  already  mentioned^  had  a  remarkable  fieite.  It 
was  left  almost  utterly  unnoticed  by  philosophers  and  reviewers 
who  might  have  derived  benefit  from  it — at  least  in  one  important 
point  of  view — namely,  by  imitating  its  clear  and  graphic  style. 
Their  silence  w&s  ascribed  to  a  supposed  conspiracy  against  the 
author,  and  this  increased  his  natural  severity  of  temper.  After 
remaining  silent  for  about  sixteen  years,  he  reassei'ted  his  doctrine 
in  a  short  treatise  *  On  the  Will  in  Nature '  (1836),  and  published, 
subsequently,  several  other  works,  of  which  the  essays  styled 
Parerga  und  Parcdipomena  (1851)  are  the  most  popular.  Scho- 
penhauer is  one  of  the  best  of  stylists.  His  sentences  have  often 
the  clear  glitter  of  a  diamond ;  but — like  the  author*8  temper — 
are  mostly  antithetic,  and  seldom  conciliatory.  His  books  may 
be  opened  anywhere  to  find  instances  of  original  and  impressive 
writing.  In  his  metaphysics  he  generally  follows  Kant,  but  not 
with  a  logical  consequence.  The  substance  of  all  phenomena  is 
described  by  Schopenhauer  as  '  the  Will  in  Nature,'  which,  in 
man,  becomes  conscious  of  its  own  character. 

We  may  dismiss  with  this  brief  notice  Schopenhauer's  meta- 
physics ;  but  his  ethical  doctrine,  professing  to  be  derived  from 
an  insight  into  the  realities  of  life,  demands  attention.  It  is,  at 
least,  important  as  an  antithesis  to  all  shallow  optimism,  and  in 
some  parts  is  too  well  founded  on  facts.  It  gives,  in  the  clearest 
and  most  concise  form,  the  primitive  doctrine  of  Bouddhism.  For 
the  sake  of  brevity,  we  give  it  here  in  the  dogmatic  form  of  a 
summary.  It  may.  be  repeated,  that  Schopenhauer  constantly  uses 
the  word  7Ft2/,  not  in  its  common  sense,  bat  to  designate  Nature 
itself  as  the  force  by  which  all  the  phenomena  or  facts  of  the 
world  around  us  and  within  us  are  produced.  According  to  his 
own  theory,  ho  ought  to  have  made  one  exception ;  but  of  this  we 
say  nothing  more  at  present,  as  our  lirst  object  is  to  lef  the  theory 
speak  for  itself.  In  compiling  the  following  summary  we  refer 
mostly  to  the  author's  chief  work  above  mentioned,  but  also  to 
hi^  short  treatise  on. 'the  Will  in  Nature,'  and  to  his  other 
writings  :— 

Our  inductiye  science  ends  with  the  questions^'  Whence  ? '  '  Wherefore? ' 
We  observe  facts,  and  classify  them  ;  but  then  follows  a  question  respecting 
the  substance  that  lies  behind  the  facts  ?    What  do  they  express  ?    What 


488  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEEATURE.  [Ch. 

Is  the  Will  of  Trhich  they  are  the  Representation  7 — Jt  we  were  isolated  from 
the  world  around  us,  we  could  not  answer  the  question.  But  we  are  not  so 
isolated.  'We  belong  to  nature,  and  nature  is  included  in  oursdves.  We 
have  in  ourselves  the  laws  of  the  world  around  us.  We  find  in  our  own 
bodies  the  mechanicd  laws,  and  those  of  the  organic  lift  manifested  in  plants 
and  animals.    We  have  the  sane  understanding  which  we  find  workinfr  i 

around  us  in  the  system  of  nature.    If  we  consisted  only  of  the  body  and  1 

the  understanding,  we  eould  not  distinguish  ourselves  from  nature.  If  we 
know  what  is  in  ourselves,  we  know  what  is  in  nature.  Now  what  do  we 
find  controlling  the  facts  of  our  own  natural  life  ?  An  impulse  which  '^o 
may  call  the  Will  to  live.  We  often  use  the  word  Will  in  a  complex  sense, 
n:i  impl^ng  both  thought  and  choice  ;  but  in  its  purest,  simplest  sense,  as 
the  word  is  used  here,  it  means  the  impulse,  or  force,  which  is  the  cftuse  of  a 
phenomenon.  In  this  sense,  there  is  a  Will  from  which  the  movementa 
within  the  earth  and  upon  its  surface  derive  their  origin.  It  works  con- 
tinuously upwards  from  the  forms  of  crystals,  through  the  forms  of  zoophytes, 
mollusca,  annelida,  insecta,  arachnida,  crustaoea,  pisces,  reptilia,  aves,  and 
mammalia.  There  is  one  Will  manifested  in  the  growth  of  all  plants  and 
animols.  That  which  we  call  a  purpose  when  viewed  as  associated  with 
intellect,  is,  when  regarded  most  simply,  or  in  itself,  a  force  or  impulse — the 
natural  Will  of  which  we  are  now.  speaking.  It  is  the  Will  to  live — ^tbe 
mighty  impulse  by  which  every  creature  is  impelled  to  maintain  its  own  ex- 
istence, and  without  any  care  for  the  existence  of  others.  It  is  an  uncon- 
scious Egoism.  Nature  is  apparently  a  collection  of  many  wiUs ;  but  all 
are  reducible  to  one — the  Will  to  live.     Its  whole  life  is  a  never-ending  I 

warfare.  It  is  for  ever  at  strife  with  itself ;  for  it  asserts  itself  in  one  foon 
to  deny  itself  as  asserted  in  other  forms.  It  is  everywhere  furnished  with 
the  means  of  working  out  its  purpose.  Where  the  Will  of  the  lion  is  found, 
we  find  the  powerful  limbs,  the  claws,  the  teeth  necessary  for  supporting  the 
life  to  which  the  animal  is  urged  by  his  Will.  The  Will  is  found  associsted 
in  man  with  an  understanding;  but  is  not  subservient  to  that  understanding. 
On  the  contrary,  the  understanding  or  intellect  is  subservient.  The  Will  is 
the  moving  power ;  the  understanding  is  the  instrument. 

This  one  Will  in  Nature  and  in  ourselves  serves  to  explain  a  g^reat  part 
of  all  the  movements  of  human  society.  Hence  arise  the  collisions  of 
interests  that  excite  envy,  strife,  and  hatred  between  individuals  or  elates. 
Society  differs  from  an  unsocial  state  of  life  in  the  forms  imposed  by  intelli- 
gence on  the  egoistic  Will,  but  not  in  any  radical  change  made  in  that  WilL 
Thus  etiquette  is  the  convenience  of  egoism,  and  law  is  a  fixing  of  boundaries 
within  which  egoism  may  conveniently  pursue  ita  objects.  The  world 
around  us,  including  what  is  called  the  social  or  civilized  world,  may  seem 
fair,  when  it  is  viewed  only  as  a  stage,  and  without  any  reference  to  the 
tragedy  that  is  acted  upon  it.  But,  viewed  in  its  reality,  it  is  an  arena  for 
gladiators,  or  an  amphitheatre  where  all  who  would  be  at  peace  have  to 
defend  themseh'-es.  As  Voltaire  says,  it  is  with  sword  in  hand  that  we 
must  live  and  die.  The  man  who  expects  to  find  peace  and  safety  here  is 
like  the  traveller,  told  of  in  one  of  Grecian's  stories,  who,  entering  a  district 
where  he  hoped  to  meet  his  fellow-men,  found  it  peopled  only  by  wolves 
and  bears,  while  men  had  escaped  to  caves  in  a  neighbouring  forest.  The 
same  egoistic  Will  that  manifests  itsdf  dimly  in  the  lowest  stages  of  life, 
{ nd  becomes  more  and  more  clearly  pronounced  as  we  ascend  to  creatures 


XXIX.J  SCHOPENHAUEE.  489 

of  higher  organisation,  attains  its  highest  energy  in  man,  and  is  here  modi- 
fied, but  not  essentially  changed,  by  a  superior  intelligence.  The  insect- 
world  is  full  of  slaughter ;  the  sea  hi<!es  from  us  frightful  scenes  of  cruel 
rapacily ;  the  tyrannical  and  destructive  instinct  marks  the  so-called  king 
of  birds,  and  rages  in  the  feline  tribes.  In.  human  society,  some  mitigation 
of  this  strife  takes  place  as  the  result  of  experience  and  culture.  By  the  use 
of  the  understanding,  the  Will  makes  laws  for  itself,  so  that  the  natural 
bellum  omnium  contra  omnes  is  modified,  and  leaves  to  the  few  victors  some 
opportunities  of  enjoying  the  results  of  their  victory.  Law  is  a  means  of 
reducing  the  evils  of  social  strife  to  their  most  convenient  form,  and  politics 
must  be  regarded  in  the  same  way.  The  strength  of  all  law  and  government 
lies  in  our  dread  of  the  anarchic  Will,  that  lies  couched  behind  the  barriers 
of  society  and  is  ready  to  spring  fgrth  when  they  are  broken  down. 

In  passing,  it  may  be  noticed  that  Schopenhauer's  political 
views  are  conservative,  and  are  founded  on  the  principle  of '  qttieta 
non  movere/  or  '  let  well  alone.'  He  has  not  hope  enough  to 
become  a  reformer.  He  warns  us  that  the  dark  realities  of 
human  nature,  which,  in  ordinary  times,  are  disguised  under  the 
forms  of  law,  are  not  essentially  altered,  but  still  exist,  and  may 
again  appear  in  the  forms  they  ]iave  assumed  in  times  like  those 
of  the  French  Revolution.  To  defend  himself  against  a  charge 
of  exaggeration,  Schopenhauer  refers  to  a  host  ^f  facts  in  indi- 
vidual experience,  social  life,  and  history.  He  sees  no  'divine 
epic  '  in  history  ;  but  mostly  regards  its  records  of  intrigues  and 
contentions  as  no  more  *  sublime  '  than  so  many  stories  of  antelopes 
slain  by  tigers.  He  looks  beyond  the  scenery  into  the  motives  of 
the  actors  on  the  stage,  and  finds  these  generally  reducible  to  the 
one  principle  of  Egoism.  The  facts  of  our  every-day  life  are  dis- 
played in  the  same  light  Our  mutual  distrust  is  shown  in  the 
care  we  take  to  know  that  a  neighbour  has  no  selfish  interest  in 
our  affairs  before  we  listen  to  his  advice.  So  far  does  egoism 
prevail,  says  Schopenhauer,  that  even  such  poets  as  Homer  and 
Shakespeare  have  portrayed  but  few  truly  noble  characters,  and 
Dante  succeeded  far  better  in  describing  Hell  than  when  laying 
the  scene  of  his  poem  in  Paradise.  Schopenhauer  goes  on  to  assert 
that  a  merely  intellectual  culture  can  have  no  power  to  change 
the  will.  The  following  may  be  given  as  a  summary  of  his. doc- 
trine on  this  part  of  his  subject : — 

Society  is  nothing  more  than  a  continuation  of  tho  conflict  of  nature, 
under  the  guidance  of  intelligence.  It  is  vain  to  hope  for  any  ami'lioration 
of  society  from  the  prevalence  of  an  intellectual  education.  Culture  of  the 
intellect  supplies  new  weapons  for  use  in  the  conflict,  and  may  render  it 


490  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ch. 

less  rode  in  appearance^  but  cannot  change  its  natnre.  The  understanding 
18  subservient  to  the  will.  Therefore  no  change  of  haman  nature  can  ever 
be  effected  by  the  spread  of  moral  doctrines.  A  man  at  rest  will  argue 
with  you,  by  way  of  pastime  (just  as  he  would  play  at  draughts),  but  let 
his  Will  be  roused  ;  then  appeal  to  his  logical  notions,  and  you  will  find 
how  much  he  really  cares  for  them  !  Tell  the  theoretical  democrat  or 
leveller,  when  he  acts  as  a  tyrant,  that  his  conduct  is  *  inconsequent.'  He 
will  laugh  at  you.  Ho  always  was,  at  heart,  a  tyrant ;  he  now  can  show 
it,  and  does  so.  Doctrines  and  creeds  are  forms ;  the  Will  supplies  their 
contents.  Just  as  a  vehicle  may  convey  substances  having  wholesome,  or 
injurious,  or  indifferent  properties,  so  any  system  of  thinking — theological, 
moral,  or  political — may  be  made  to  bear  any  purport,  good  or  bad.'  To  try 
to  shape  opinions,  so  that  they  may  nof  be  made  sobservient  to  any  evil 
purpose,  is  all  labour  in  vain. 

This  is  all  very  gloomy ;  but  it  does  not  represent  the  whole  of 
Schopenhauer's  teaching.  He  has  next  to  explain  the  origin  of 
such  principles  as  sympathy,  benevolence,  and  self-sacrifice^  and 
this  he  attempts  by  telling  us  that  the  Will,  which  he  has  so  far 
described  as  asserting  itself^  is  essentially  free  and  can,  therefore, 
also  deny  itself.  It  is  led  to  self-denial  by  arriving,  firstly,  at  the 
highest  state  of  intelligence.  '  The  principle  of  individuation '  on 
which  egoism  is  based,  is  seen  to  be  a  delusion  and  a  source  of 
endless  miseries.  Self-denial  now  assumes  the  character  of 
Fympathy,  which,  says  Schopenhauer,  is  the  basis  of  all  true 
ethics.  We  cannot  trace  a  logical  sequence  in  this  passage  from 
the  principle  of  egotism  to  that  of  sympathy.  Waiving  that 
difficulty,  however,  we  may  notice  how  the  author  proceeds  to^ 
show  that  Sympathy  must  lead  to  an  entii;e  resignation  of  the 
Will — the  one  complete  virtue,  which  is  found  only  among  true 
Bouddhists,  and  ascetic  Christians  of  the  ancient  school.  Some 
degree  of  the  self-resigning  mood  of  mind,  he  admits,  is  found  in 

ideal  artists — ^men  who  have  lived  for  the  sake  of  art  alone. 

• 

Schopenhauer  writes  well  on  SBsthetics,  and  describes  as  the 
.highest  characteristic  of  pure  art  its  power  of  elevating  the  soul 
above  all  egoistic  and  personal  views  and  desires.  Esthetic  con- 
templation is,  therefore,  some  preparation  for  that  entire  resigna- 
tion of  the  natural  Will  in  which  the  gummum  honum  is  found.  That 
this  resignation  is  possible  is  proved  by  some  parts  of  the  history  of 
the  Christian  Church  and  by  the  lives  of  genuine  ascetic  Bouddhists. 
Sympathising  with  the  'sorrows  of  all  life,  and  seeing  clearly  that 
their  longing  for  this  finite  life  inflicts  on  all  creatures  the  strife  and 
misery  that  mark  their  destiny,  the  benevolent  and  contemplative 


XXIX.]  BAADEB.  491 

man,  *flajs  Schopenliatier,  becomes  cbastened  and  subdued,  and 
his  Will  is  lost  in  a  perfect  resignation.  He  no  longer  has  any 
Will  to  live.  In  ail  essential  points,  Scbopenhauer*8  ethical 
teaching  is  identical  With  the  primitiYe  doctrine  of  Boaddhism. 
He  dwells  on  the  assertion  that  the  Hegelian  philosophy  and 
other  intellectual  systems  had  not  dared  to  encounter  the  problem 
presented  to  us  in  the  existence  (the  predominance,  says  Schopen- 
hauer) of  physical  and  moral  evil.  But  there  was  one  contempo- 
rary writer  who  had  deeply  studied  the.  problem.  It  is  one  of 
the  chief  subjects  treated  of  in  the  writings  of  Baader,  who,  in 
all  other  respects,  differed  widely  ftom  Schopenhauer.  The  latter 
vfrote,  as  we  have  seen,  in  a  remarkably  clear  and  correct  style. 
Baader's  style  may  be  described  as  gloom  interrupted,  here  and 
there,  by  vivid  flashes  of  lightning. 

Fbanz  Xateb  voir  Baader,  bom  at  Miinchen  in  1766,  was  in 
early  life  a  student  of  Schelling's  theories  and  of  Bohme's  theo- 
so^hy,  which  he  employed  in  the  exposition  of  doctrines  main- 
tained by  the  Catholic  Church.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add 
that  he  received  censure  for  this  attempt  to  unite  faith  and  specu- 
lation. He  was  condemned  as  belonging  to  a  class  of  heretical  * 
men  calling  themselves  Catholics,  who  more  or  less  mingled 
theology  with  their  own  speculations  and  who  were  represented 
by  Sailer,  Wessenberg,  Keller,  Hermes,  and  Gunther.  The  last- 
named  author,  who  was  a  priest,  wrote  several  discursive  polemic 
essays  against  philosophers ;  but  his  zeal  in  the  defence  of  theo- 
logy gained  no  reward.  All  his  vmtings  were  inserted  in  the 
Index  Ubrorum  FroMbUorumf  afld  received  papal  condemnation  in 
1867.  B|uider*s  writings  indude  an  essay  on  the  *  Physical  Basis 
of  Ethics '  (1813),  <  Lectures  on  ReUgious  Philosophy '  (1826), 
'Lectures  on  Speculative  Dogmatics,'  a  work  on  'Eastern  and 
Western  CatholiciBm,'  and  a  series  of  tracts  entitled  Fermenta 
Cognitiomt,  His  doctrine  of  social  organisation  is  contained  in 
his  'Outlines  of  the  Philosophy  of  Society,'  edited  by  his  disciple 
'Franz  Hoffmann,  and  first  publishea  in  1837.  Baader  died  in 
1841. 

It  is  as  an  earnest  opponent  of  one  of  the  supposed  tendencies  * 
of  the  Hegelian  system  that  Baader  is  remarkable.    He  finds,  he 
says,  in  that  system  the  serious  error  of  representing  the  material 
world  now  existing  as  a  representation  of  the  original  creation. 
In  other  words,  Baader  holds  in  its  most  extensive  interpretation 


492  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.  [Co. 

tlie  doctrine  of  tlie  Bible  and  of  both  the  Catholic  and  tha  Pro- 
testant Church,  respecting  *  the  fall  of  man  ^  and  the  consequent 
degradation  of  physical  life.  He  maintains  that  moral  and 
physical  evil  are  indissolubly  united^  find  sees  in  all  the  evils  of 
the  material  world  and  of  human  society  the  result  of  an  insur- 
rection against  Divii^p  authority.  If  we  saw  a  criminal  beheaded^ 
says  Baader,  it  would  be  absurd  to  ascribe  his  death  to  the 
sharpness  of  the  axe,  and  it  is  as  absurd  to  ascribe  to  physical 
causes  the  evil  and  the  misery  that  prevail  in  the  world.  If  we 
rightly  understand  Baader's  teaching  respecting  the  authority  of 
the  Church,  he  argues  in  favour  of  the  existence  of  a  Christian 
hierarchy,  but  also  insists  on  the  duty  of  fre^  inqfiiry  and  specula- 
lion  respecting  religious  doctrine.  He-  adheres,  therefore,  to  a 
rule  laid  down  by  St.  Anselm  : — NegUgentia  mthi  videtur  si,  post' 
quam  confirmati  sumus  infidey  non  studemus  gw>d  credimus  tnteSi" 
geire*  Two  or  three  brief  quotations  from  Baader  may  show  that 
he  maintained,  with  regard  to  the  offices  of  the  Christian  Church, 
two  principles  which  are  seldom  found  in  union : — 

The  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  hia  own  spiritual  life  is  neither  innate*  in 
man  nor  can  it  be  obtained  by  his  independent  reasonings.  He  must,  first 
of  all,  receive  it  by  the  testimony  of  others,  and  as  the  result  of  their 
experience.  .  .  .  We  see,  therefore,  the  necessity  for  the  foundation  and 
the  maintenance  of  an  institution  [the  Church]  to  impart  that  knowledge. 
The  absence  of  such  an  institution  in  the  world  would  be  as  great  a 
contradiction  of  Divine  goodness  and  justice  as  would  be  a  punishment  of 
transgression  without  a  previous  publication  of  the  law. 

As  long  as  Religion  and  its  doctrines  do  not  receive  from  science  [>«e. 
speculative  philosoph}^]  a  respect  founded  upon  free  inquiry  and  sincere 
conviction,  so  long  the  Ueligion  that  is  not  respected  will  not  be  loved.  If 
you  would  have  the  practice  of  Religion  thrive,  take  care  that  its  theory  is 
made  intelligible.  Obscurism  in  religious  doctrine  must  draw  down  the 
punishment  due  to  indifference  or  careless  ignorance;  for  light  repelled 
returns  in  lightning. 

The  aim  of  many  other  passages  in  Baader's  writings  is  to 
show  that  the  true  defence  jjf  religious  doctrine  is  to  be  found  ii^ 
its  full  exposition,  and  not  in  an  exclusive  appeal  to  external 
authority.  Baader's  principal  doctrines  and  some  of  the  more 
important  of  Schelling*s  latest  theories  arose  out  of  an  earnest 
endeavour  to  give  in  an  exoteric  form  the  esoteric  gnosis  ofBohme. 

-  *  *  It  seems  to  me  an  act  of  negligence  if,  when  we  have  been  confirmed 
in  the  faith,  we  do  not  study  to  understand  what  we  believe.' 


.]  BAABEE.  493 

Thia  singular  fiEuH;  may  serre  either  to  excite  further  inquiry,  or  to 
confirm  readers  in  their  contempt  of  all  religious  philosophy.  There 
are  to  he  found  now  in  '  practical'  Deutschland,  i&s  well  as  in  'prac- 
tical '  England,  many  intelligent  men  who  would  descrihe  all  the 
speculative  philosophy  of  the  years  1793-1841  as  little  better  than 
a  dream. 

The  writings  of  Hegel,  Schopenhauer,  and  Baader  on  nature, 
history,  and  society,  introduce  us  to  the  hardest  problems  of  which 
a  solution  can  be  attempted,  and  show  the  results  to  which  a 
study  of  those  problems  may  lead.  Hegel's  view  of  nature  must 
not  be  called  optimistic,  but  it  is  hopeful  when  contrasted  with 
Schopenhauer's  doctrine  of  the  unconscious  Will.  Baader's  theory 
is  sombre  and  almost  Manichssan,  yet  not  hopeless.  With  re- 
gard to  history  and  polities,  Hegel's  views  are  progressive,  con- 
ciliatory, and  moderate.  Fear  is  the  motive  of  Schopenhauer's 
conservatism.  Baader,  if  we  truly  understand  him,  would  make  a 
close  union  of  Church  and  State  the  basis  of  society.  Hegel's 
doctrine  of  the  relations  of  religion  and  politics  has  already  been 
noticed.  It  is  most  concisely  stated  in  his  address  delivered 
is  the  Berlin  University  *0n  the  Third  Secular  Festival  of  the 
Augsburg  Confession.'  *  Schopenhauer  has  no  respect  for  doc- 
trinal Christianity,  nor  indeed  for  any  other  religion,  ezcQpt 
as  it  inculcates  a  severe  ascetic  practice.    Baader's  views  of 

*  A  few  words  from  the  second  paragraph  of  this  Address  may  be 
quoted : — *  Libertatem  autem  Christianam  eam  ease  intelligimus,  ut  unus 
quiaque  dignua  dedaratua  sit,  qui  ad  Deom  accedat  eum  cognoscendo,  pre- 
candO)  oolendo,  at  negotinm  qood  sibi  cum  Deo  sit,  Deo  cum  homine, 
qniaqne  cum  Deo  ipne  peragat,  Deus  ipse  in  mente  humana  perficiat. 
Neque  cum  Deo  aliquo  negotium  nobis  est,  qui  flatune  aifectibus  sit  obnoxius, 
aed  qui  ait  Veritas,  ratio  aetema,  ejusque  rationis  conscientia  et  mens.  Hac 
autem  rationis  oonsdentia  Deus  hominem  esse  pneditnm  atque  ita  a  bnitis 
animalibus  diversum  voluit,  nt  Dei  esset  effigies,  atque  mens  humana, 
quippe  ffitemsB  lucis  scintilla,  huic  luci  pervia.  Ideo  porro,  quod  homo  Dei 
esset  imago,  Deus  humans  natune  ideam  sibi  vere  inesse  mortali  generi 
palam  fSecit,  atque  amari  se  ab  hominibus  et  permiait  et  voluit,  eisque  sui 
adeundi  infinitam  largitus  est  facultatem  ac  fiduciam.* — We  cannot  find,  in 
Hegel's  own  writings,  any  sure  authority  for  the  extreme  negations  of  the 
Left.  The  following  three  statements  are  here  given  with  the  assertion  that 
they  are  again  and  again  repeated  in  Hegel's  own  writings : — 

(1)  Eternal  truth  may  be  known  by  thinking. 

(2)  The  same  truth  is  represented  in  the  form  of  a  history  for  all 
mankind. 

(d)  The  essence  of  both  the  thinking  and  the  history  may  be  all  implied 
in  one  devout  feeling — in  the  reUgion  of  the  heart. 


494  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUBE.  [Ch. 

religion  are  at  once  polemic  and  mystic;  but  the  waAire  to 
which  his  controversial  works  refer  is  one  waged  against  more 
than  mortal  powers.  His  chief  doctrine — that  the  utmost  possible 
evil  which  creatures  endowed  with  freedom  can  pei'petrate  is 
permitted  in  order  that  iDivine  Qoodness  may  ultimately  have  its 
highest  possible  triumph — ^was  borrowed  from  Bohme*s  theosophy 
and  may  be  described  as  a  conception  too  vast  to  be  grasped  by 
our  o^inaiy  powers  of  thought.  It  must  not,  however,  be  con- 
founded with  a  shallow  optimism.  It  is,  on  the  contrary,  as 
Baader  expounds  it,  a  stem  doctrine  of  warfare  '  with  principali- 
ties and  powers  of  evil,'  but  the  warfare  is  waged  with  the  aid  ot 
faith,  hope,  and  consolation.  The  same  polemic  doctrine  has 
>  been  employed  by  Saint  Martin  and  other  writers  in  support  of 
hierarchic  institutions.  Their  argument  is  to  the  effect,  that  in 
the  spiritual  warfare  in  which  the  Church  and  the  world  are 
engaged,  the  firmest  traditional  organisation  and  the  support  of 
an  ecclesiastical  union  are  demanded  to  aid  individual  efforts. 
Yet  they  do  not  speak  of  the  Church  as  infallible.  They  would 
trust  in  the  energy  of  faith,  and  iii  the  power  of  persuasion,  rather 
than  in  any  external  support.  When  a^ked  how  authority  is  t^ 
be  maintained,  if  the  Church  is  not  infallible,  Sidnt  Martin 
asserts,  that  there  are  in  the  world  men  whose  sanctity  and  wis- 
dom must  demand  homage  and  obedience,  *  You  may  disobey 
them,'  he  says,  '  for  you  are  free ;  but  you  will  suffer  severely 
for  it.' 

We  hercconclude  our  account  of  the  latest  tendencies  of  Gei> 
man  mysticism,  now  desciibed  as  belonging  to  the  past^  If  we 
have  bestowed  more  than  ordinary  attention  on  the  subject,  let  it 
be  remembered  that  myslicism  in  Germany  long  maintained  a 
prominent  place  in  religion  as  well  as  in  philosophy.  It  prevailed 
very  extensively  in  the  fourteenth  century,  aided  in  leading  to  the 
Keformation,  and  afterwards  opposed  itself  to  the  exclusive  doc- 
trine and  the  formalism  of  the  later  Lutheran  churches.  Mystic 
piety  survived  through  all  the  dreary  years  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  and,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  it  opposed  itself  to  that 
extreme  rationalism  which  helped  to  bring  on  the  Revolution, 
And  now,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  if  '  free  theology,'  with  all 
its  negations  of  history,  differs  widely  from  the  ixreverence  of 
Bahrdt  and  Nicolai,  the  difference  may  be  ascribed  to  the  influence 
of  a  mystic  piety,  which,  if  new  extinct^  must  have  expired 


XXrX.]  THE  HEGELIAN  SCHOOL.  495 

Tory  recently.  English  readers  may  never  learn  to  like  the  word 
'mysticism.'  It  may,  however,  be  easily  changed,  for  it  means, 
generally,  a  faith,  not  without  insight,  but  unaided  by  formal 
logic 

Having  given  some  account  of  external  opposition  to  the 
Hegelian  school  we  may  notice  the  internal  controversy  which 
ended  in  its  dissolution.  '  When  Hegel  died,'  says  a  French  au- 
thor— Paul  Janet — '  no  conqueror  ever  left  an  empii'e  greater  (!) 
or  apparently  less  contested/  This  statement  is  too  extensive ; 
but  it  is  true  that  the  Hegelian  school  was  predc«ninant  in  Berlin 
for  ten  years  and  more  after  the  founder's  death,  and  that  its 
influence  invaded  every  department  of  study.  We  can  name  only 
a  few  of  the  zealous  disciples  who  were  engaged  in  carrying  up 
the  structure  of  which  the  ground-plan  was  laid  down  in  their 
master's  ^  Encyclopsedia.'  Karl  Michelet  developed  the  doc- 
trine of  Ethics ;  Rosiwkbanz  and  Erbmann  wrote  on  Psychology; 
i&thetics  occupied  the  studies  of  Hotho  and  Visgher  ;  Fbuer- 
BAOH  and  KuNO  Fischer  wrote  on  the  History  of  Philosophy,  and 
Speculative  Theology  was  represented  by  Dat7B  and  MARaEiNEKS 
and,  later,  by  Baur,  Yatke,  and  Strauss,  while  Jurisprudence 
and  Politics  engaged  the  attention  of  Gans,  Rtjoe,  and  other 
authors. 

Then  followed  a  controversy — metaphysical,  logical,  theological, 
and  political — which  Hegel's  own  words  may  fairly  describe ;  for 
it  was  *  a  tedious  affair.'  The  Hegelian  school  was  divided  into' 
three  sections,  styled  respectively,  the  Right,  the  Centre,  and  the 
Left.  The  men  on  the  Right  hand — Gosghel,  Gabler,  and 
others — ^maintained  that  the  teaching  of  their  school  was  con- 
sistent vnth  existing  religious  and  political  institutions,  or,  in 
other  words,  was  both  orthodox  and  conservative.  The  Centre 
was  represented  by  Earl  Rosbnkranz,  the  author  of  a  '  Life  of 
Hegel '  and  of  several  works  on  literary  history  and  aesthetics. 
It  was  on  the  Left — including  Karl  Miohelst,  its  moderate  re- 
presentativor  and  Arnold  Rues  in  politics,  with  Fexjerbach 
and  Strauss  in  theology — that  the  innovations  were  made  which 
led  to  a  dissolution  of  the  school.  The  doctrines  asserted  by  the 
extreme  Left  were  denounced  as  atheistic  and  revolutionaiy. 
After  1848  the  interest  in  all  the  inquiries  formerly  included  under 
the  name  of  speculative  philosophy  rapidly  declined,  and  Cicero's 
saying  was  once  more  found  true — Siquisumvertam  [jphiloeophiam} 


496        ounjOTS  OF  German  literatuiie.        [Ch. 

veUtvituperare^  aecundoidpopulofacerepotsU,^  To  supply  the  blank 
space  left  by  tbe  absence  of  speculation,  the  study  of  physical  science 
now  came  into  the  field  and  was  recommended  by  the  tendencies  of 
Schopenhauer*s  writings,  though  their  whole  theory  was  not,  in 
itself,  materialistic.  One  of  the  more  important  works  that  led 
to  a  controversy  on  exclusive  materialism  was  Moleschoti^s 
KreUUmf  de$  Lebena  (^  The  Circular  Course  of  Life  ').  Rudolf 
Waonsb,  in  his  essay  Wisaen  and  Olauben  ('  Science  and  Faith '), 
endeavoured  to  put  a  stop  to  the  dispute  by  drawing  a  strong 
boundary-line  between  science  and  religious  doctrine.  In  religion, 
he  said, '  give  me  the  simple  faith  of  a  charcoal-man ;  in  matters 
of  science  allow  me  to  doubt  as  much  as  I  please.'  This  assertion 
of  a  so-called  Kohlerglavbe — the  said  ch'arcoel-man's  faith,  or  a 
belief  without  inquiry — ciJled  forth  energetic  expressions  of  dis- 
sent from  another  physiologist,  'Karl  Vogt,  who  declared  *■  that 
the  brain  secretes  thought  just  as  the  liver  secretes  bile.'  Mole- 
schott  had  already  said  that '  no  thought  is  possible  without  phos- 
phorus.* The  doctrine  of  the  materialists  was  made  more 
popular  by  BiicnNER's  well-written  treatise  entitled  Ki-aft  und 
iSlfq^  (' Matter  and  Force'),  which  was  first  published  in  1855, 
soon  passed  through  several  editions,  and  was  translated  into 
French  and  English.  An  able  French  reviewer,!  while  admitting 
that  the  book  is  full  of  facts  clearly  and  concisely  stated,  complains 
that  it  gives  no  definition  of  Staffs  (f  matter '),  though  this  is  one 
of  the  words  in  the  title. 

The  authors  above  named  may  fairly  represent  the  school  of 
modem  materialism.  The  controversy  to  which  it  has  given  rise 
is  too  extensive  and  difficult  to  be  described  here ;  but  it  may  be 
noticed  that  under  the  one  name  of  *  materialism '  three  clearly 
distinct  doctrines  may  be  implied.  The  first  asserts  that  to  mat- 
ter, in  a  sublimated  condition,  may  be  ascribed  all  the  functions 
that  have  been  ascribed  to  the  mind ;  the  second  is  founded  on 
scientific  induction  and  avoids  dogmatic  generalisations ;  the  third 
declares  that  all  the  phenomena  in  the  universe  must  be  the  re- 
sults of  matter  and  force.  This  last  doctrine  is  both  metaphysical 
and  dogmatic. 

The  spread  of  materialism,  thecft'etical  and  practical,  has  n 

*  *  If  anyone  wishes  to  treat  all  philosophy  with  contempt,  be  may  { 
popularity  by  so  doing.' 

t  See  Ze  Matirialisme  conUmporain,  by  Paul  Jaket. 


XXIX.]  SOCIAL  THEORIES.  497 

heea,  allowed  to  take  place  without  opposition.  Fichte  (the 
younger^,  Ulbici,  author  of  a  work  entitled  *  God  and  Nature/ 
LoizB,  one  of  the  best  writers  belonging  to  Herbart*s  school^  and 
Feohneb  and  Ktrcrjiaiik,  may  be  named  as  able  opponents  of 
absolute  materialism.  Its  extreme  doctrine  has  been  ably  dis- 
cussed-by  EBT7ABD  TON  HABTiCAinir  in  two  chapters  (II.  and  V. 
of  Fart  C)  in  his  *  Fhilosophy  of  the  Unconscious  * — the  mo^t 
popular  of  all  the  philosophical  works  published  during  the  last 
ten  years.  The  method  of  this  book  is  inductive,  and  its  moral 
tendency  seems^  on  the  wholci  to  accord  with  Schopenhauer's 
teaching.  '  The  Unconscious  *  is  the  name  given  by  Hartmann 
to  the  '  Will  in  Nature/  as  described  by  Schopenhauer. 

Some  of  the  theories,  or  notions,  of  the  German  Social  Demo* 
cracy  of  our  age  are  found  in  close  connection  with  a  practical 
materialism ;  but  others  have  the  pretepsion  of  being  based  on 
Hegelian  doctrine.  As  one  example  from  the  latter  class, '  the 
Future  of  Humanity,'  a  book  by  Karl  Lunwia  Michelkt  (a 
veteran  of  the  Left  Hegelian  party)  may  be  named.  In  one 
respect,  at  least,  Michelet  is  a  true  disciple;  for  he  adheres 
faithfully  to  the  principle  of  freedom,  and  will  not  take  part  in 
any  attempt  to  build  a  socialistic  Utopia  on  the  negation  of 'per- 
sonality. The  results  of  unlimited  competition  in  industry  and 
trade  will,  in  the  end  (says  Michelet)  be  foiind  intolerable,  and 
men  will  then  be  glad  to  iSnd  a  refuge  in  voluntary  unions  con- 
trolled by  the  power  of  unanimity.  But  when  these  unions  have 
made  all  individual  competition  hopeless,  even  then  personal 
liberty  shall  be  respected.  Though  'a  union  of  unions'  may 
occupy  the  lengtH  and  breadth  of  the  land,  still,  if  one  voluntary 
and  solitary  Crusoe  shall  prefer  to  stand  outside  and  io  compete, 
single-handed,  agdnst  all  their  power,  that  lonely  hero  shall  be 
allowed  to  stand  free,  and  to  take  his  own  course.  But  a  vast 
majority  of  mankind  will  leam  to  act  in  accordance  with  the 
true  social  doctrine,  Concordia  res  parva  crescunt,  sed  Dixordia 
res  maxima  dUahtmtur — by  union  small  resources  are  increased ; 
by  discord  the  greatest  are  destroyed.  That  a  high  moral  training 
must  inevitably  precede  the  formation  of  such  a  co-operative 
Utopia  as  Michelet  describes,  may  be  'proved  by  his  own  quotation 
from  Froudhon. 

More  might  be  said  of  recent  innovations  in  the  theories  of 
politics  and  social  economy ;  but  we  cannot  afford  space  for  them| 

K  K 


498  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAK  LITEBATI7BE.  [Ca. 

as  we  have  still  to  ootioe  the  new  tendencies  of  the  Left  party  with 
legaid  to  religions  history  and  doctrine.  LuDwie  Ahdbxas 
Fbttbbbach  (1804-72),  one  of  HegeVs  disciples  at  Berlin,  soon 
chose  an  indep<%ndent  position,  and,  in  his  'Essence  of  Christianity' 
and  other  writings,  reduced  all  theology  to  anthropology,  and  gate 
a  list  of  facts  in  psychology  as  a  substitute  for  the  philosophy  of 
religion.  The  controrersy  that  followed  these  extreme .  assertions 
was  by  no  means  as  important  as  that  which  was  excited  by  the 
appearance,  in  1835,  of  a  work  entitled  '  The  Life  of  Jesus.' 

David  Fbibdbios  Siraitss,  the  writer  of  that  book,  was  bom 
at  Ludwigsburg  in  1808.  He  studied  at  Tubingen,  and  at  Berlin, 
where  he  attended  Hegel's  lectures.  Some  yean  after  the  publi- 
cation of  his  chief  work,  Dr.  Strauss  was  appointed  professor  of 
ecclesiastical  history  at  Zurich;  but  the  protest  of  the  people 
there  compelled  him  to  retire  from  that  position.  His  book  was 
described  as  reducing  the  eyangelical  narratiye  to  'a  series  of 
myths,'  invented  '  half  unconsciously '  by  the  faith  and  devotion 
of  the  Primitive  Christian  Church.  In  his  reply  to  this  criticism^ 
the  author  asserted  that  he  had  not  attacked  what  he  called  the 
substance  of  the  Christian  faith.  He  published,  in  1847,  a  mono- 
graph on  the  history  of  '  Julian  the  Apostate,'  and  subsequently 
(in  1840-62)  wrote  a  series  of  biographies  of  men  mostly  remark- 
able as  innovators  and  liberals — Schubart  the  poet  and  publicist, 
Beimarus,  the  rationalist,  and  Ulrich  von  Hutten.  In  1863,  after 
Kenan's  '  Life  of  Jesus '  had  gained  great  popularity,  Dr.  Strauss 
published  a  new  revised  and  extended  edition  of  his  chief  work, 
which  was  followed,  in  1865,  by  a  book  entitled  'The  Christ  of 
Faith  and  the  Jesus  of  History.'  In  1872,  Dr.  Strauss  reasserted 
his  own  doctrine  in  '  The  Old  Faith  and  the  New,'  a  work  that 
was  denounced  by  the  English  premier  in  a  remarkable  speech 
delivered  at  Liverpool  in  December  1872. 

It  is  obvious  that  there  can  be  given  here  notSrng  more  than  a 
merely  descriptive  statement  of  the  vastly  important  qnestiona 
mooted  by  Dr.  Strauss  and  other  writers  of  hii  school.  He 
maintains  that,  while  the  essential  ideas  contained  in  the  Gospel 
narrative  are  true  and  sacred,  the  narrative  itself  may  be  sub- 
jected to  critical  inquiry,  lik*e  any  portion  of  secular  history.  He 
therefore  treats  it  as  Niebuhr  treated  early  Roman  history.  He 
denies  the  historical  validity  of  statements  of  miraculous  events, 
Slid  regards  tiiem  as  'mythical'  zepresentations  of  ideas  which 


XXIX.]  CONTEOVEEST.  490 

constitute  the  eubstanoe  of  Chriatianity.  His  opponents  maintain 
that  these  ideas  depend  for  proof  on  the  authenticity  of  the 
Gospel  narrative,  and  regard  Dr.  Strauss  as  Having  attacked  the 
foundations  of  the  Christian  faith.  To  this  charge  he  replies  in 
his  '  Polemical  Essays '  (1838),  by  saying  that  ^  a  belief  in  mirades 
does  not  constitute  the  basis  of  Christian  &ith ; '  th&t  spiritual 
'doctrine  has  been  too  long  made  to  depend  upon  traditions,  and 
that  it  must  now  be  maintained  in  its  proper  independence.  The 
explanation  of  his  views  regarding  'substantial  Christianity'  is 
given  in  his  work  entitied  'Christian  Doctrine'  (ChristUche 
OUmbenslehre),  The  work  by  Neander  on  this  controversy,  and 
Professor  Tholuck's  '  Credibility  of  the  Gospel  History'  (1837), 
may  be  mentioned  as  specimens  of  numerous  publications  directed 
against  the  views  of  Dr.  Strauss.  His  chief  work  has  been 
followed  by  several  attempts  made  by  other  writers  to  describe 
the  life  of  our  Saviour.  Among  the  more  remai'kaUe  works  of 
this  class  we  may  nsme  those  written  by  NAAjn)BB,  .Schbnxel, 
and  Ebix. 

English  readers  may  ask,  Is  there  any  clear  distinction  to  be 
made  between  the  old  rationalism  of  Dr.  Bahrdt,  and  other  writers 
in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  '  the  free  theology '  of  the  nineteenth 
centuVy  P  Both  are  negative  with  regard  to  their  treatment  of 
miracles ;  but  the  former  would  reduce  Christianity  to  a  system  of 
ethics,  while  the  latter  finds  something  far  higher  than  ordinary 
morality  in  '  The  Sermon  on  the  Mount,'  and  in  other  Divine 
utterances  that  are  destined  to  live  after  criticism  and  scepticism 
have  destroyed  all  that. they  can  destroy,  'Free  theology,'  as 
viewed  by  its  German  advocates,  professes  to  give  the  substance 
instead  of  the  shadows  of  tbe  Christian  religion,  and  to  unite,  as 
it  is  said  Sghlbisbmachsb  united,  free  inquiry  with  a  devotional 
spirit.  The  results  of  all  the  philosophical  speculations  and  theo- 
logical controversies  of  i-ecent  years  are  far  too  extensive  to  be 
described  here.  One  of  their  most  important  effects  -is  seen  in 
the  relations  now  existing  between  Catholicism  and  Protestantism. 
A  few  years  ago,  there  lived  hopeful  men  in  Germany  who  could 
speak  of  a  union  of  the  two  forms  of  one  faith  (as  they  were  then 
called)  as  at  least  possible ;  but  what  can  be  said  of  union  now, 
after  the  declarations  issued  £rom  Rome  in  1864  and  1870  P  On 
one  side,  free  theology  asks.  Shall  all  the  movement  towards 
spiritual  freedom  that  has  been  going  on  from  the  fourteenth 

kk2 


600  OUTLINES  OF  GKBHAK  UTEBATUBE.  [Ch. 

oentory  to  the  present.be  viewed  as  meaning  nothing,  or  worse 
than  nothing?  On  the  other  side,  Rome  points  to  hard  thinking 
and  endless  disputes  substitated  for  faith,  and  ending  sometimes 
in  extreme  unbelief  or  in  materialism.  Rome  again  points  to  a 
want  of  reverence  for  historical  fiicts,  and  claims,  as  belonging  to 
the  Church  and  its  tradition,  the  light  that  has  shone  here  and 
there  through  the  gloom  of  metaphysics.  Here  are  the  materials 
of  a  controversy  more  extensive  than  that  which  took  place  in  the 
sixteenth  century.  Between  the  two  extreme  parties,  the  Old 
Gatholios,  headed  by  Db.  Dollihgeb,  appear  to  hold  an  impor- 
taat  position,' 


NOTE  ON  CHAPTER  XXIX. 

In  the  preceding  chapter  we  have  treated  as  impracticable  or  nselem  the 
observance  of  reticence  respecting  theories  of  scepticinm  and  extreme  dis- 
belief. Whether  correct  or  false,  a  notion  has  prevailed  to  a  considerable 
extent  in  England,  that  Atheism,  or  Pantheism,  or  something  very  mnch 
like  it,  has  on  its  side  all  the  philosophy  of  the  German  people.  They  have 
made  themselves  a  great  power  in  Europe ;  their  profound  and  extensive 
learning  and  the  rapid  progress  which  they  have  made  in  the  physical  sdances 
are  miiversally  admitted;  it  cannot,  therefore,  be  an  indifferent  matter 
when  an  appeal  is  made  to  their  philosophy  as  in  favour  of  extreme 
disbelief  in  the  existence  of  any  Power  above  man  and  nature.  We  submit 
here  a  statement  of  facts  that  may,  perhaps,  serve  to  limit  or  qualify  in 
some  degree  the  general  and  vague  notion  above  referred  to.  Our  aim  is 
merely  to  describe  facts  as  they  are,  and  not  to  write  either  accusations  or 
apologies.  Thia,  we  trust,  will  be  self-evident  in  the  following  notes  on 
certain  recent  controversies. 

Without  saying  anything  whatever  of  its  scientific  truth,  it  may  be 
asserted  that  the  intention  of  the  Hegelian  Philosophy,  aa  propounded  by 
its  founder,  was  not  to  destroy  the  Chrfstian  faith,  but  to  comprehend  it— to 
think  ou<.  what  had  been  believed.  This  might  be  an  erroneous  and  a 
hopeless  endeavour ;  but  it  is  clear  that  it  was  not  a  negation.  *  The 
Christian  Religion,'  said  Hegel,  'contains  absolute  truth  in  tlie  form  ii^ 
which  it  must  be  presented  to  all  mankind.'  Then,  how  could  'he  wish  to 
destroy  that  form  ?  We  might  quote  volumes,  instead  of  passa^^es,  in 
evidence  of  the  truth  that  he  had  no  such  design.  Some  of  the  extreme 
negations  asserted  by  writers  who  have  been  described  as  his  followers, 
profess  to  be  founded,  not  on  his  retii/to,  as  stated  by  himsell^  but  on  the 
most  abstruse  passages  in  his  metaphysics.  In  the  same  way,  strange 
conclusions  have  been  deduced  from  Aristotle's  mere  words^  taken  out  of 
their  true  connection.  By  taking  a,  few  words  here  and  there,  we  mi^ht 
make  *an  alhaiat'  9r  *ft  pantheiat'  of  the  Stagyrite;  or  if  our  will  had 


XXIX.]  CONTROVERSY.  601 

another  direction,  we  might  declare  that  he  was,  after  all,  *  a  theosophist' 
For  this  last  purpose  it  would  serve  to  refer  to  a  few  words  in  his  meta- 
physics (xi  7) — 

et  odv  othus  c?  Ifx^i,  &5  ^/lets  tttni,  6  Oths  &cl,  0avfuurr6y, 

With  these  remarks  we  leave  the  charges  of  Atheism  and  Pantheism. 
We  may  next  inquire  if  materialism  is  a  true  result  of  philosophy.  It 
niust.be  fully  admitted  that  materialism  has  been  very  boldly  asserted, 
during  recent  years,  by  several  scientific  men,  of  whom  Karl  Yoot  is  a 
prominent  representative.  There  is  nothing  whatever  that  is  new  in  their 
theory.  It  is  as  old  as  the  time  of  Democritus,  and  was  propounded  by 
La  Mettrib  (1709-51),  and  by  the  author  (or  authors)  of  that  heavy 
book,  the  Systeme  de  la  Nature,  first  published  in  London  in  1770.  Mate- 
rialism is,  therefore,  no  result  of  recent  German  philosophy.  There  are  two 
modes  of  searching  for  the  causes  of  all  the  phenomena  that  we  find  around 
us.  In  the  first  place,  we  may  analyse  them,  so  as  to  reduce  them  to  their 
simplest  elements — *  matter  and  force,'  as  Dr.  BUchner  has  said.  This  is 
the  theory  called  Materialism.  But  we  may,  on  the  other  hand,  seek  for 
their  final  cause,  and  may  view  this  as  the  true  cause.  For  every  form  or 
degree  of  existence,  we  may  find  the  motive  in  that  which,  apparently, 
follows.  Thus,  we  may  say,  matter  exists  for  the  sake  of  life,  and  life  as  a 
manifestation  of  the  mind.  But  that  for  the  sake  of  which  a  phenomenon 
takes  place,  must  be,  in  truth,  though  not  in  appearance,  prior  to  the 
phenomenon,  and,. moreover,  it  must  be  the  substance  and  the  truth  of  the 
phenomenon.  This  is  the  Hegelian  doctrine  of  nature,  and — ^whether  true 
or  false — it  can  never  lead  to  Materialism. 

One  of  the  supposed  results  of  philosophical  speculation  is  the  denial  of 
all  Statements  of  miraculous  events  found  in  the  Bible  or  elsewhere.  This 
denial  was  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  old  rationalism  which  prevailed 
in  England  and  in  France,  as  well  as  in  Germany,  in  the  middle  and  latter 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  is  not  to  bo  questioned  that  a  disbelief  in 
miracles  prevails  now  very  extensivelj'  among  the  Protestants  of  Germany. 
This  disbelief  is,  however,  no  result  of  any  recent  system  of  philosophy,  but 
still  finds  its  most  popular  or  commonly  intelligible  argument  against  miracles 
in  the  writings  of  the  Scotch  sceptic,  David  Hume,  who  died  in  1776.  What- 
ever may  be  the  merits  or  demerits  of  his  argument,  it  is  one  that  preceded 
all  that  is  now  commonly  understood  under  the  title  of  German  Philosophy. 
•  Another  form  of  disbelief,  described  as  prevalent  in  Protestant  Germany, 
and  among  free  theologians  of  the  new  school,  consists  in  a  denial  of  the 
antiquity  and  authenticity  of  several  and  considerable  portions  of  the 
Canonical  Scriptures.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state,  that  the  grounds  of 
this  denial  are  to  be  found,  not  in  any  system  of  philosophy,  but  in  the 
philological  and  historical  researches  of  Biblical  critics,  especially  those 
belonging  to  *  the  Tubingen  School.'  It  is  with  reference  to  the  results  of 
those  researches  that  Catholic  writers  have  protested  against  what  they 
view  as  the  fundamental  error  of  the  rationalists — both  old  and  new — a 
want  of  reverence  for  historical  authority.  It  is  maintained,  against  the 
negative  criticism  of  the  Gospel  narrative,  that  it  leaves  in  darkness  and 
mystery  the  origin  of  the  Christian  Church,  and  that  it  refuses  to  recognise 
in  the  early  existanoe  of  that  Church  a  oorrobonltion  of  the  Qospeb  in  their 
narration  of  supernatural  events. 


502  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  MTEKATUEE.  [Ch. 

Another  error  ascribed  to  the  new  rationalists  is,  that  thej  have  accepted, 
as  founded  on  their  own  reasonings^.truths  and  moral  principles  which  were 
first  made  known  to  men  by  the  Catholic  Church,  to  which  they  still 
properly  belong.  The  existence  of  that  Church,  and  its  power  maintained 
against  formidable  oppositions  throughout  so  long  a  space  of  time,  contra- 
dict (say  its  advocates)  the  rationalistic  theory  of  its  origin.  For  further 
examples  of  Catholic  and  Ultramontane  censures  on  all  free  theolog}*  and 
biblical  ex^pesis,  we  may  refer  to  a  series  of  essays  entitled  Stimmen  ova 
Maria-Laach  (*  Voices  from  the  Convent  of  Maria-T^aach '),  in  which  the 
Papal  declarations  and  decrees  of  1864  and  1870  are  defended  in  opposition 
to  all  the  claims  of  Are  inquiry. 

In  reply  to  the  charge  of  inconsistency,  in  referring  a  great  series  of 
events  to  an  insufficient  cause,  the  advocates  of  *free  theology'  deny  that 
they  have  reduced  Christianity  to  a  mere  system  of  ethics,  and  assert,  on 
the  other  hand,  that  they  have  treated  with  reverence  the  Fubstantial  truth 
that  remains,  after  all  the  eliminations  described  as  the  results  of  a  negative 
criticism.  The  originality  and  depth  of  the  teaching  found  in  '  The  Sermon 
on  the  Mount;'  its  absolutely  unworldlike  character,  and  its  bold  and 
authoritative  opposition  to  the  universal  errors  of  the  world  and  the  age; 
the  humiliation  and  the  authority  express^  as  perfectly  united  in  the 
person  of  the  Founder  of  Christianity,  and  the  power  which  His  doctrine 
still  retains  of  forming  the  closest  possible  bond  of  union  for  all  mankind ; — 
these,  say  the  apol6gists  of  free  theology,  are  the  clearest  evidences  of  a 
Divine  Original,  and  supply  for  us  sufficient  bases  for  our  faith. 

Enough  has  been  said  to  represent  the  two  sides  of  th^  controversy*  and 
to  show  that  it  has  no  necessary  connection  with  any  system  of  philosophy. 
The  chief  use  which  the  advocates  of  absolute  Church  Authority  make  of 
loud  professions  of  atheism  and  materialism  is  to  show  that  philosophy  has 
not  prevented  the  spread  of  such  doctrines,  and  therefore  can  supply  no 
sufficient  guidance  for  the  people. 

Both  parties  engsf^ed  in  the  controversy  between  freedom  and  authority 
know  well  that  religion  does  not  consist  in  any  system  of  tenets,  but  in  a 
life  in  accordance  with  the  Divine  Will.  That  life,  says  one  party,  can  be 
developed  only  in  One  Communion — the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  On  the 
contrary,  say  the  friends*  of  free  theology,  it  must  be  developed  in  accord- 
ance with  individual  freedom  of  inquiry  and  belief.  The  Church,  says  the 
Ultramontane  advocate,  should  be  a  home,  a  place  of  repose  for  the  soul, 
and  not  a  lecture-hall  filled  with  the  wranglings  of  eradite  German  pro- 
fessors. To  prevent  such  strife,  he  would  demand  'the  sacrifice  of  the 
intellect.'  The  Church  in  which  men  shall  find  repose,  say  free  inquirers, 
is  a  Church  of  the  Future — a  Canaan,  to  which  we  are  now  travelling 
through. the  Wilderness  of  Controversy. 

It  is  the  old  dispute  between  Authority  and  Freedom ;  but  it  has  been 
recently  made  more  distinct  with  regard  to  the  positions  respectively 
maintained  by  the  combatants.  The  coming  contest  is  inevitable,  and  all 
that  reasonable  men  can  pray  for  is^  that  the  weapons  employed  may  alwa^^-a 
be  spirituaL 


ZXX.]  YOUNa  aERSIAIHY.  503 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

T0T7MO  OSBlCAlfT— FOZJTICAL  POBflBT — kV^TMUt  POBTBT. 

Thb  writezs  wBo  were,  for  a  short  time,  associated  under  the 
Tague  title  of  '  Toung  Germany/  had  generally  negative  tenden- 
cies with  regard  to  social,  political^  and  religions  institutions,  and 
were  commonly  deserihed  as  *  the  followers  of  Hsdtb.'  *  Their 
union,  if  it  ever  existed  in  an  inte^gihle  form,  was  soon  diasolved, 
and  some  of  its  members  afterwards  wrote  in  oppositipn  to  its 
principles. 

Kabl  GinzEow,  bom  at  Berlin  in  1811,  must  be  named  as  one 
of  the  most  able  and  persevering  of  the  writers  who  have  en- 
deavoured to  connect  the  literature  of  fiction  with  a  discussion  of 
the  complex  social,  political,  and  religious  interests  of  the  present 
age.  His  reflective  and  didactic  tendency  often  limits  the  exer- 
dae  of  his  imagination,  and  he  endeavours  to  make  poetry  do 
work  that  might,  perhaps,  be  better  done  in  plain  prose.  In  his 
long  romance.  Die  RitUr  vom  Qeiste  (in  nine  volumes),  he  first 
describes  the  corruptions  of  modem  society,  and  then  suggests  a 
plan  of  reformation  by  the  institution  of  a  new  order  of  knight- 
Eood,  which  is  to  include  all  the  more  honourable  and  intelligent 
men  of  the  period,  who  form  an  association  something  like  that 
which  was  dreamed  of  by  the  *  lUuminati '  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. The  plot  of  this  voluminous  romance  is  extremely  complex ; 
bu^its  numerous  parts  are  grasped  with  a  tenacious  power  of  com- 
bination, and  their  minute  details  are  arranged  with  extraordinary 
care  and  ingenuity.  The  lively  interest  excited  t)y  this  social  and 
reformatory  work  of  fiction  might  be  partly  ascribed  to  the  intro- 
duction of  several  literary  portraits  of  men  well  known  in  Berlin 
at  the  time  of  the  Revolution  (1848).    In  another  very  long 

*  Their  supposed  inspirations,  said  to  have  been  derived  from  Hegel's 
teaching,  lordly  deserve  a  passing  notioe. 


604  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUEE.  [Cbu 

romance — '  The  Sorcerer  of  Home '  (in  nine  volamesy  1859) — the 
author  displays  the  same  extraordinary  industry  in  the  collection 
and  arrangement  of  a  yast  mass  of  materials.  The  tendency  of 
the  stoiy  is  in  favour  of  a  reformed  Catholicism,  liberated  from 
Ultramontane  authority;  but  the  author  has  nothing  to  say  in 
favour  of  Protestantism  in  its  actual  state. 

A  critical  and  controversial  tendency  prevails  in  the  dramas  as 
in  the  romances  written  by  Gutzkow.  In  hia  drama  of  Uriel 
Acoata  he  gives  the  story  of  a  condemned  heretia  The  play  con- 
tains some  powerfully  tragic  sitaationsi  but  the  didactic  interest 
is  made  too  prominent,  as  in  Lessing's '  Nathan.'  Gutzkow's  his- 
torical dramas,  FatkidyWuUenvH^y  and  AMomo  TkreA,  have  been 
generally  described  as  inferior  to  bb  comedies,  of  which  Zopf  und 
Schwerdt  b  one  of  the  best  The  story  of  this,  belonging  to  the 
time  of  Fiiedrich  Wilhelm  L  of  Prussia^  has  a  national  interest^ 
and  the  most  humorous  scenes,  of  the  play  are  founded  on  facts. 

Heinbioh  Laubb,  who  for  a  short  time  was  associated  with 
the  coterie  called '  Young  Germany,'  was  born  in  1806.  After 
writing  several  romances,  in  which  the  influence  of  Heinse  and 
Heine  may  be  traced,  Laube  gained  a  higher  reputation  by  several 
dramas,  including  MonaldescMf  Strueneeey  JRoeoeo,  Die  KarbekSler, 
and  FHnz  Friedrich.  Hb  prose  writings  are  recommended  by  a 
dear  and  vigorous  style. 

FEBDnrAND  GusxAV  EiJHinB,  bom  in  1806,  was  for  some  years 
employed  as,  editor  of  the  literary  journal  <  Europa.'  He  had  but 
a  slight  connection  with  the  coterie  with  which  he  has  been 
classed.  In  his  '  Convent  Stories,'  however,  he  made  use  of  fiction 
to  denounce'  the  principles  of  ascetic  life,  and  thus,  like  other 
writers  belonging  to  the  clique  of  '  Young  Germany,'  he  treated 
rather  slightly  and  indirectly  some  important  questions  that  are 
better  discussed  in  fair  and  open  controversy.  Kiihne's  best  pro^ 
ductions  are  found  in  his  descriptive  and  critical  writings  in 
prose.  Among  these  may  be  noticed  his  'German  Men  and 
Women '  and  hb  pleasant  sketches  of  Berlin,  Vienna,  and  Prague. 

LuDOLF  WiEKBARe  must,  at  least,  be  named  as  the  inventor  of 
the  phrase  '  Young  Germany,'  which  b  found  in  the  preface  to 
one  of  his  books.  He  wrote  in  £&your  of  a  restored '  Hellenism ' 
(such  as  Holderlin  had  dreamed  of),  and  abo  for  the  so-called 
'  emancipation  of  women.'  The  latter  project  was  moro  ardently 
advocated  by  Thsodob  Mi7in)Ty  in  hb  fictions  'Mother  and 


XXX.]  MUNDT.  505 

Daughter '  and  ^  Madonna.'  The  most  erroneous  of  all  Mundt's 
productions — his  sketch  of  '  Chai'lotte  Stieglitz ' — ^is,  strange  to 
say,  founded  on  a  fact,  which  may  be  briefly  stated  as  one  of  the 
most  striking  examples  of  morbid  literary  fanaticism.  Charlotte 
Stieglitz  was  the  wife  of  a  young  man  who  had  written  some 
poems,  but  had  failed  to  gain  sUch  a  reputation  as  he  desired. 
His  restless  discontent  with  his  own  position  in  life  and  with  his 
achievements  in  literature  excited  his  wife's  sympathy,  and 
suggested  to  her  the  notion  that  nothing  less  than  some  severe 
affliction  would  rouse  to  action  the  high  poetic  powers  which  (as 
she  fondly  believed)  her  husband  possessed.  The  unhappy 
woman,  placed  in  thene  circumstances,  committed  suicide  I  Theo- 
dor  Mundty  in  his  portraiture  of  her  character,  not  oply  expresses 
his  belief  that  her  sole  motive  for  the  act  was  to  awaken  her 
husband's  genius,  but  also  describes  the  act  as  reasonable  and 
noble.  To  conclude  the  sad  story— the  sacrifice  was  useless,  for 
no  improvement  followed  in  the  development  of  the  husband's 
moderate  poetical  abilities.  With  this  anecdote,  we  may  apolo- 
gise for  leaving  unnoticed  further  details  of  the  new  social  theories 
held  by  *  Young  Germany.' 

In  our  notices  of  the  political  poets  who  wrote  before  and  after 
1848,  the  place  of  honour  belongs  to  AxjeiiST  Heutbich  Hoff- 
HAmr,  who,  to  distinguish  himself  from  so  many  other  men  having 
the  same  surname,  appended  to  it  the  name  of  his  birthplace, 
Fallsbslsbsit,  where  he  was  bom  in  1798.  He  waa  Professor 
of  German  Literature  at  Breslau  in  1830-43,  and  afterwards 
frequently  changed  his  place  of  residence,  wandering  from  one 
library  to  another,  in  order  to  collect  materials  for  several 
valuable  works  on  Old  German  Literature.  Hoflmann's  contri* 
butions  to  literary  history  include  a  *  Collection  of  the  Popular 
Songs  of  the  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries,'  and  several 
interesting  monographs.  His  original  lyrical  poetry  has  a  truly 
popular  tone,  and  a  more  extensive  compass  than  we  find  in 
Wilhelm  Miiller,  already  mentioned  as  Hoffmann's  rival  in 
melody.  After  1840,  Hoffmann  turned  away  from  his  old  topics, 
chosen  from  scenes  of  every-day  life,  and  published,-  under  the 
ambiguous  title  of  '  Unpolitical  Songs,'  a  series  of  bold  lyrical 
poems  and  some  rather  trivial  verses  on  political  topics.  For  this 
offence  he  waa  deprived  of  his  professorship  at  Breslau.  Now, 
when  the  excitements  of  1840  and  1848  have  passed  away,  thera 


606  OUTLINES  OF  GEEMAN  LITEEATUBB.  [Ch. 

may  be  many  readexs  who  will  prefer  Hoffinium's  genial  *  Songs 
for  Children '  to  bis  political  verses.  These,  howeyeri  enjoyed 
an  eztensiye  popularity,  and  were  followed  by  many  other  ^  songs 
of  freedom'  and  yersified  declamations  of  the  same  tendency, 
written  by  Herwegh,  Dingelstedt,  and  Freiligrath.  The  laslr 
named  author  had  attained  a  high  reputation  as  a  poet,  when  he 
was  led  into  politics — perhaps  by  the  influence  of  his  friend, 
Hoffinann  yon  Fallersleben. 

FsRDiVAKi)  Freiligrath,  bom  at  Detmold  in  1810,  was  for 
some  years  engaged  in  trade.  The  success  of  a  yolume  of  poems, 
published  in  1838,  induced  him  to  leaye  the  counting-house,  and 
in  1842  he  received  a  small  pension  from  the  King  of  Prussia. 
This  the  young  poet  soon  resigned,  in  order  to  insure  for  himself 
the  freedom  of  opinion  which  he  afterwards  asserted  in  his 
political  poem  entitled  *  A  Confession  of  Faith.'  Without  entertain- 
ing any  prejudices  whatever  against  the  political  doctrines  main- 
tained in  these  poems  and  verses,  it  may  be  suggested  that  their  tojMCS 
would  be  more  suitably  discussed  in  leading  articles  for  news- 
papers. To  leave  the  political  strife  of  the  past — ^Freiligrath's  best 
poems  are  remarkable  for  bold  innovations  in  the  choice  of  topics, 
and  for  their  glowing  descriptions  of  foreign  scenery.  In  several 
of  his  poems,  'of  which  the  scenes  are  laid  in  Africa  and  in 
Arabia,  he  shows  the  taste  of  a  painter  who  cares  nothing  for 
the  sentiment  of  a  subject,  if  it  only  affords  scope  for  strong 
colouijng  and  makes  an  effective  picture.  Thus,  in  one  of  his 
African  poems — ^The  Lion's  Ride' — he  describes  nothing  better 
than  the  attack  of  a  lion  on  a  giraffe.  In  a  better  poem  of  the 
same  class  he  brings  before  us  a  vision  of  the  '  Spectaral  Carawi' 
seen  by  travellers  in  the  Arabian  Desert : — 

It  comes  I  before  the  oamela  the  spectral  drivers  glide, 

Unveiled  Arabian  women  in  the  lofty  saddles  ride, 

Beside  them  walk  yoang  maidens,  pitchers  bearing,  like  Rebecca, 

And  dark-brown  chieftains  follow — ^Uke  the  wind  they  sweep  to  Mecca. 

For  lo !  it  is  the  night  when  all  whom  these  wide  sands 
Have  ever  swallowed  np,  and  whose  dust  is  on  our  hands^ 
Whose  skulls  our  horses*  hoofs  have  daily  trodden  down. 
Arise  and  go  in  hosts,  to  pray  in  the  holy  town. 

'The  Negro  Prince,'  an  African  ballad,  is  one  of  the  best 
specimens  of  the  writer's  graphic  power.  The  warrior  leada  hia 
dark  army  into  the  battle  : — 


XXX.]  FREILIGRATH.  507 

The  lion  and  lerpent  were  scared  at  the  soand 
Of  the  rattling  tom-tom  with  skulls  hung  aroand. 
And  the  banner  was  waving,  a  sign  of  dread, 
0*er  the  desert's  yellow,  soon  dyed  into  red. 

Meanwhile,  the  chieftain's  bride  is  waiting  for  his  return  from 
the  fight : — 

With  pearls  firom  the  Persian  billows  so  fair. 
She  decks  the  dark  curls  of  her  flowing  hair ; 
The  ostrich's  plume. waves  aloft  on  her  brow ; 
Bright  shells  on  her  arms  and  her  bosom  glow^ 

She  sits  at  the  door  of  her  lover's  tent, 
And  lists  to  the  thunders  of  battle  blent ; 
The  sun  fiercely  strikes  in  ihe  ooon-tide  hot ; 
Her  garlands  are  withered — she  heeds  it  not ! 

The  sun  sinks  down  and  the  shadows  grow,     . 
The  night-dew  rustles,  the  fire -flies  glow. 
And  the  crocodile,  from  the  tepid  pool, 
Looks  out  into  the  evening  oooL 

The  lion  is  up  and  roars  out  for  his  prey— 
The  elephant-herd  through  the  wood  bursts  away: 
The  dappled  giriffes  are  now  gone  to  repose — 
Bright  eyes  and  bright  flowers  in  the  darkness  dose. 

Her  bosom  is  swelling  and  heaving  with  care— 
A  messenger  comes  with  a  tale  of  despair : — 
*  Lost  is  the  battle,  thy  lover  a  slave ! 
By  the  men  of  the  West  carried  over  the  wave ! ' 

With  wild-scatter'd  hair  she  falls  on  the  ground** 
Her  ornaments  all  from  her  bosom  unbound — 
8he  tears  out  her  jewels  with  violent  hand. 
And  buries  her  face  in  the  glowing  sand. 

In  other  poems — such  as  *  African  Loyalty '  and  '  Scenes  at 
Congo' — the  author  selects  topics  that  must  be  described  as 
horrible.  In  the  latter,  for  example,  he  tells,  in  a  style  too 
graphic,  how  the  concubines  of  a  deceased  king  of  Dahomey  are 
slain,  that  they  may  go  to  wait  upon  their  savage  lord  in  the 
land  beyond  the  grave : — 

He  goes  in  yonder  happy  land  to  reign. 
And  you  must  haste  to  share  in  his  repose^ 
Where  every  blade  of  grass  and  blossom  glows 
Dark-cximson  with  the  blood  of  all  his  foes. 

These  highly-coloured  and  sensational  sketches  of  foreign  life 


608  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ca. 

do  not  represent  all  the  merits  of  Freiligrath's  poetry.  In  Ida 
*  German  Emigrants '  there  is  no  want  of  true  feelingj  as  a  few 
lines  may  show : — 

'Mid  foreign  woods  yoali  long  in  Tain 

For  roar  paternal  mountains  green, 
For  Deutschhind's  yellow  fields  of  grain. 

And  hills  of  vines  with  purple  sheen  I 

The  vision  of  your  olden  time, 

Of  nil  you  leave  so  far  behind, 
like  some  old  legendary  rhyme, 

Will  rise  in  dreams,  and  haunt  your  mind. 

'The  Emigrant  Leader'  and  'The  Emigrant  Poet'  axe  both 

specimens  of  the  writer*s  more  pleasing  strains   of  sentiment. 

'  The  Picture  Bible/  though  one  of  the  least  assuming,  is  also  one 

of  the  best  of  his  lyrical  poems.     The  old  brown  folio  calls  up 

recollections  of  the  happy  days  of  childhood,  and  the  poem  is  thus 

concluded : — 

My  mother,  as  she  taught  me,  •  ' 

When  questioning,  I  came, 
Tells  evezy  pioturs's  story. 

Gives  every  place  its  name^ 
fills  with  old  songs  and  sayings 

My  memory  all  the  while— 
My  father  sits  beside  uS 

And  listens  with  a  smile. 

0  childhood,  lost  for  ever  I 

Gone,  like  a  vision,  by — 
The  pictured  Bible's  splendour, 

The  young,  believing  eye, 
The  father  and  the  mother, 

The  still,  contented  mind. 
The  love  and  joy  of  childhood— 

All,  all  are  left  behind ! 

We  have  still  left  unmentioned  the  best  of  Freiligrath's  lyrio* 
epic  poems.  It  is  entitled '  N^bo,'  and  nobly  desfribes  the  death 
of  the  great  leader  of  the  Israelites : — 

They  shouted  in  the  valley 

*  Candan  I  *  with  joyous  ton©— 
Their  leader  up  the  pathway 

Of  the  mountain  went  alone : 
His  snow-white  locks  were  flowing 

About  his  shoulders  spread, 
.  And  golden  beams  were  glowing 

Upon  his  reverend  head. 


XXX.]  FREIUGRATH.  609 

To  see  the  promised  country, 

Before  he  died,  intent, 
Bapt  in  the  glorious  vision. 

He,  trembling,  forwards  bent. 
There  glittered  all  the  pastores 

Y^ith  thousand  charms  outspread^* 
The  land  he  sees  with  longing, 

The  land  he  ne'er  must  tread  I 

The  plains,  far  out  extending. 

Are  rich  with  corn  and  vines, 
And  man}*  a  white  stream,  wending 

Through  rich,  green  meadoura,  slmies. 
With  milk  and  honey  flowing 

▲s  far  as  eye  can  span, 
There  lies  the  land,  all  glowing. 

From  B^rsheba  to  Dan. 

'  Can&an,  mine  eyes  have  seen  thee  t 

Let  death  undreaded  come ! 
In  gentle  whispers  breathing, 

Lord,  call  thy  servant  home  I ' 
On  light,  soft  clouds  descending 

Upon  the  mountain's  brow. 
He  came^the  pilgrim-people 

Have  lost  their  leader  now  I 

Upon  the  mountain  brightening 

'Tis  glorious  there  to  die, 
When  al^the  clouds  aio  whitening 

In  the  shining  morning  sky ; 
Far  down  below  beholding. 

Wood,  field,  and  winding  stream— 
And  lo,  above,  unfolding. 

Heaven's  golden  portals  gleam ! 

Our  quotations  from  Freiligrath  have  been  rather  eztensire. 
They  may  be  Tiewed,  however,  aa  some  humble  acknowledgments 
of  his  appreciation  of  English  and  Scottish  literature,  with  which 
he  made  himself  well  acquainted  during  the  years  when  he  re- 
sided in  London.  Freiligrath  has  produced  some  excellent  trans- 
lations of  English  lyrical  poems,  and  has  succeeded  in  the  "difficult 
task  of  translating  fairly  into  German  several  of  the  songs  of 
Ilobert  Bums. 

To  return  to  political  Terse-writing — we  have  still  to  notice 
some  of  its  most  energetio  authors,  and  also  two  or  three  of  their 
opponents.  GxoBe  Hjebwebs^  bom  in  1817,  though  yo^ger  than 
Freiligrath,  preceded  him  as  a  writer  of  adranced  liberal  or  r»- 
Tolutiontfry  BongS;  and  gained  a  conadeiable  reputation  soon  after 


610  OUTLINES  OF  GEKMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ca. 

the  accession  of  Friedrich  Wilbelm  IV.  of  Prussia.  After  spend- 
ing some  years  of  exile  in  Switzerland,  Herwegh  returned  to  Ger- 
many and  took  some  slight  part  in  the  practical  moyement  of 
1848.  The  key-note  of  his  terrible  war-lyrics  is  concisely 
given  in  the  two  lines— 

Tear  the  crosses  from  the  earthy 
And  beat  them  into  swords  I 

One  objection  to  this  song  was  reasonably  urged  by  a  critic, 
who  remarked  that  iron  crosses  were  too  rare,  and  that  the  metal 
required  might  be  elsewhere  found  in  abundance.  Geibbl,  a 
mild  and  conservative  poet,  addressed  to  Herwegh  a  more  serious 
remonatiance,  which  contains  such  lines  as  these — 

Like  Peteri  then,  put  up  jour  swoid, 
Conclude  at  once  your  marlial  rhymes ; 

And  look  at  Paris  now,  and  learn 
Freedom  is  not  the  child  of  crimes. 

Emakttel  Gbibel,  the  son  of  an  evangelical  reformed  pastor, 
was  bom  in  1815.  Though  only  a  small  number  of  his  poems 
have  any  strong  political  tendency,  he  may  be  named  here  as  one 
T)f  the  liberal,  yet  conservative  writers  of  his  time.  His  well- 
known  love  of  rational  freedom,  his  loyalty,  and  his  Christian 
principles,  have  gained  for  his  poetry  praises  that  might  hardly 
have  been  won  by  its  power  and  originality. 

To  find  other  examples  of  sudden  success  in  poetry  won  partly 
by  its  political  and  religious  tendencies,  we  might  refer  to  the 
romantic  story  of  Amarmith,  and  to  several  other  poems  written  by 
OSCA.R  voir  Rbdwitz,  a  Bavarian  baron  and  a*Catholic,  b6m  in 
1823.  They  have  been  extravagantly  praised  by  certain  critica, 
who  sympathise  with  the  poet's  religious  and  conservative  senti* 
ments,  and  they  have  been  almost  savagely  condemned  by  writers 
who  assert  extreme  negative  and  liberal  principles. 

The  iendency  of  the  age  to  make  imaginative  literature  sub- 
servient to  political  interests  has  been  less  boldly  manifest  in 
Austria  than  in  North  Germany ;  but  modem  or  recent  Austrian 
poetry  has  by  no  means  remained  wholly  indifferent  with  regard 
to  the  political  and  religious  questions  of  the  present  century. 
On  the  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  the  Austrian  poets,  even  when 
writing  of  politics  and  religion,  are  milder,  more  cheerful,  and 
more  conciliatory  than  Georg  fierwegh. 


XXX.]  GBAP  VON  AUERSPEEa.  611 

In  1831,  a  volame  of  poems  entitled  ^Rambles  of  a  Viennese 
Poet '  gained  a  sudden  popularity.  Its  author,  Astos  Aixjastdtsb 
Qraf  tok  AxTEBSPERe  (who,  in  literature,  has  chosen  for  himself 
the  more  conyenient  name  of  Air abtjLSIUS  Gkun),  is  descended 
from  a  noble  family  holding  large  estates  in  the  Austrian  empire. 
He  was  bom  at  Laibach,  in  Krain,  in  1806.  Since  1848  he  has 
been  classed  with  advanced  liberals  in  politics,  and  the  assertion 
of  freedom  is  the  key-note  of  many  of  his  lyrical  poema  His 
writings  generally  express  kind  and  generous  feelings,  but  his 
poetry  is  too  refiectiTe.  His  '  Rambles  of  a  Viennese  Poet,'  and 
the  series  of  poems  including  ^  The  Five  Easters,'  have  political 
and  controversial  aims,  but  are  free  from  bitterness.  There 
is,  however,  more  true  poetry  in  the  author's  least  ambitious 
pieces,  though  in  these  we  find  too  often  decorations  that  seem 
studied  and  eztemaL  For  example,  a  penitent  who  dwells  in  a 
cottage  on  the  shore  looks  forth  to  the  sky-line  on  the  sea — 

Where  vamshes  in  haze  the  snow-white  aafl^ 
Like  innocence ;  so  white ! — bo  far  away  ! 

In  another  poem,  an  unknown  and  dethroned  king  is  represented 
as  dying  in  a  rural  solitude  and  under  a  tree,  whoee 

Dark  green  boughs,  like  ftaneral  plomea^ 

Wave  above  the  old  king's  head, 
While,  like  a  royal  parple  robe^ 

The  evening>light  is  o*er  him  spread. 

Several  of  Count  Auersperg's  poems  have  humorous  and 
satirical  traits.  The  *  American  Planter,'  for  example,  is  repre- 
sented as  meditating  on  the  arrival  of  liberty  with  «  cargo  of 
tea,  and  finds  himself  inspired  sufidently  to  utter  three  or  four 
stanzas  on  freedom  and  '  the  rights  of  man/  but  this  complacent 
soliloquy  is  suddenly  interrupted  when  '  a  black  and  woolly  negro 
head '  intrudes  itself,  and  changes  the  current  of  the  new  poet's 
meditations. 

Count  Auersperg  often  writes  very  cheerfully  of  the  future; 
for  he  has  fidth  in  the  progress  of  science  and  culture  as  likely 
to  end  in  a  restoration  of  Arcadian  happiness.  Steam-vessels  and 
railways,  he  imagines,  will  expedite  the  coming  of  the  future 
golden  age,  and  he  laughs  at  easthetic  men  who  have  fears 
that  steam  and  machinery  may  banish  poetry  from  the  earth. 
liUDWiQ   L,  ex-king  of  Bavaria^  was  one  of  these  ttsthetio 


612  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  LITEEATITBE.  [Ch. 

men ;  for  thna,  in  one  of  hia  poems,  he  described  some  effecta  of 
railway  travelling: — 

The  saying  that  the  world  must  end  in  smoke 
Seems  trae  in  these  last  days  of  steam  and  ooke^ 
When  the  loud  engine  on  the  iron  rails 
O'er  ancient  ties  and  sympathies  prevails. 
Homeless,  and  counting  love  of  borne  a  dream. 
From  land  to  land  we  pass  in  clouds  uf  steam, 
For  ever  on  the  same,  dull,  level  ground. 
With  universal  sameness  all  iu'ound. 

Moral  tendencies  and  reflections  prevail  too  much  In  many  of 
Count  Auersperg*8  poems;  others  are  Dot  deficient  in  pathos, 
and  a  few  are  truly  lyrical  in  both  thought  and  expression. 

One  of  Count  Auersperg^s  lyrics  has  been  so  popular  that  it  has 
been  chosen  as  the  model  for  several  clever  parodies.  It  is  en- 
.titled  '  The  Last  Poet,'  and  serves  as  a  reply  to  some  intensely 
practical  men,  who  thus  express  their  earnest  desire  to  banish 
poetry  from  tha  world : — 

When  will  be  poets  weaiy, 

And  throw  their  harps  away  ? 
When  will  be  sung  and  ended 

The  oft-repeated  lay  ? 

.   The  following  are  a  few  stanzas  from  the  reply : — 

* 

Long  at  the  sky's  loud  thunder 

Is  echoed  from  the  hill. 
And,  touched  with  dread  and  wonder, 

A  human  heart  can  thrill ; 

And  long  as  night  the  ether 

With  stars  and  planets  sows. 
And  man  can  read  the  meaning 

That  in  golden  letters  glows ; 

As  long  as  blooms  the  spring 

And  wbile  the  roses  blow, 
While  smiles  can  dimple  cheeks, 

And  eyes  with  joy  overflow; 

And  while  the  cypress  dsrk 

O'er  the  grave  its  head  can  shaks^ 
And  while  an  eye  can  weep, 

And  while  a  heart  can  break; 

So  long  on  earth  shall  lire 
Tniie  pooQr  divuM 


XXX.]  LENAIT.  613 

• 
The  poems  mitten  by  Nekolatts  Lbnatt  (1802-60),  a  Magyar 

by  birthy  whose  true  name  was  Niemhsch  Ton  Strehleuau,  are 

full  of  the  melancholy  that  for  several  years  overshadowed  his 

mind^  and  was,  at  last^  changed  into  unbroken  gloom.    His  lyrical 

poems  have,  however^  many  pleasing  traits  of  pious  sentiment  and 

imaginative  sympathy  with  nature,  €Lnd  are,  on  the  whole,  far  better 

than  his  more  ambitious  epic  poems — '  Faust '  and  *  Savonarola. 

The  deeply  melancholy    tones  in  which  Lenau    describes    his 

own  mental  sufferings    are   free  from  affectation,  but  leave  a 

most  painful  impression.    He  writes^  sometimes,  as  if  sceptidsmi 

or  extreme  disbelief,  had  been  the  cause  of  his  misery ;  but  at 

other  times  he  describes  it  as  his  fate.    One  of  his  short  narrative 

poems — 'The  Postilion '-^might,  for  its   simplicity  and  pathos, 

have  been  inserted  among  Wordsworth's  '  Lyrical  Ballads.'    Like 

that  true  poem, '  We  are  Seven,'  the  simple  story  told  by  Lenau 

refers  to  our  instinctive  belief  thai  those  whom  we  call  .the 

departed  are  still  in  being.    The  poet  describes  first  a  drive  by 

moonlight  through  a  solitary  district,  and  then  a  halt  beside  a 

lone  churchyard  under  a  hill : — 

Here  my  postilion  checked  his  pace, 

Then  held  his  horses  still, 
And  looked  upon  the  sign  of  grace 

Below  the  moonlit  hiU. 

*  Sir,  here  I  must  a  custom  keep 

In  honour  of  the  bones 
Of  a  good  comrade  fast  asleep 
Among  those  old  gray  stoneB 

•  •  • 

'  A  meUow  horn  was  liis  delight. 

His  notes  were  clear  and  strong ; 
I  stay  to  give  him,  every  night. 

His  favourite  old  song.' 

Then,  to  the  chnrchyard  tum'd»  h«  blew 

The  notes  of  some  old  lay. 
In  honour  of  his  comrade  true 

There  resting  in  the  clay. 

A  gentle  echo,  from  the  hill 

Beyond  the  churchyard,  sighed, 
As  if  the  dead  were  living  still. 

And,  in  soft  tones,  replied. 

Then  o'er  the  midnight  landscape  drear 

We  hasten'd  through  the  still ; 
But  long  was  sounding  on  my  ear 

That  echo  from  the  hilL 

LL 


614  OUTLninBS  of  GEEMAN  LITERATURK  [Ch, 

Fbakz  t^RiLLPABZEBy  whose  literary  career  waa  a  long  one, 
began  authorship,  as  we  haye  said,  by  writing  a  dismal  'fate- 
tragedy/  He  wrote  in  a  greatly  improved  style  in  his  later 
dramatic  works,  of  which  '  Sappho '  may  be  named  as  a  specimen. 
Another  Austrian  dramatic  poet,  Joseph  Freiherr  von  Miinch- 
Bellinghausen,  bom  1806— better  known  by  his  assumed  name 
Friedbich  Halk— wrote  several  dramas,  of  which  'Griseldis,' 
'  The  Son  of  the  Wilderness/  and  *  The  Fighter  of  Ravenna '  may 
be  mentioned  as  fair  specimens.  Their  tone  is  lyric  and  romantic, 
rather  than  clearly  and  strongly  dramatic,  and,  though  they 
contain  some  fine  passages  of  declamation  and  theatrical  effect, 
their  delineations  of  character  are  often  defective.  The  character 
of  the  hero  Percival  in  the  play  of  ^Griseldis'  deserves  to  be 
especially  noticed  as  a  failure.  We  find  more  invention  than 
self-control  or  good  to&te  in  Fbiedrich  Hebbsl,  bom  in  1813, 
whose  dramas  are  less  sentimental  than  powerful.  In  ^  Judith ' 
and '  Genoveva,'  Hebbel  gave  proof  of  a  great  command  of  ener« 
getic  diction,  but  his  taste  for  introducing  horrible  incidents  waa 
very  justly  censured.  It  almost  reminds  us  of  Lobenstein,  who 
ought  to  be  forgotten. 

To  mention  even  the  names  of  all  the  young  poets  who  have, 
during  recent  years,  acquired  a  reputation  in  Austria,  Bohemia^ 
and  Hungary  would  far  exceed  our  limits.  Their  general  merits 
may  be  described  by  saying  that  their  successes  belong  to  lyrical 
poetry,  and  that  many  of  their  best  productions  may  be  classified 
with  the  pleasant  lyrio-epic  poems  which  were  introduced  by 
Uhland  and  Heine,  as  followers  of  Goethe.  Karl  Beck,  by 
birth  an  Israelite  (bom  1817),  author  of  some  fiery,  political  lyrics, 
MoRiTZ  Hartmann,  a  Bohemian  democrat,  and  Alfred  Meissneb 
may  be  named  as  representing  political  poetry  in  Austria. 

We  find  a  true  poet,  though  <one  who  wrote  in  prose,  in 
Ai>ALBEBT  STirrBB,  bom  in  1806,  the  author  of  *  Studies/  <  The 
Old  Bachelor,'  Der  Hochwald,  and  several  other  stories,  remark- 
able for  their  quiet  chastened  style,  and  for  the  imaginative 
harmony  with  which  the  writer  blends  his  scenery  with  the  cha- 
;>acters  whom  he  introduces.  He  often  seems  to  make  his  human 
figures  subordinate  to  the  interest  of  the  landscape  in  which  they 
appear.  His  stories  are  defective  in  action,  and  will  not  afibrd 
the  excitement  craved  by  the  lovers  of  wonders  and  horrors ;  for 
Stifter  writes  like  a  true,  quiet  poet,  who  might  have  excelled  if 
he  had  devoted  all  his  attention  to  landscape-painting.    Ab  maj 


XXX.]  8En>L.  515 

be  gaeflsed,  lie  sometimea  neglects  to  obey  Lefising's  rule  for 
keeping  poetry  distiiict  from  painting. 

We  have  mentioned  bat  a  few  of  the  Austrian  poets,  and  these 
not  as  the  best,  but  as  fair  representatives  of  their  class ;  but  we 
have  unavoidably  left  unnamed  others  whose  claims  are  not 
inconsiderable.  Ebitst  yoir  Fsuchtebsleben,  an  eminent  medical 
man,  deserved  to  be  named  rather  for  Zur  DihteUk  der  Seek,  a  very 
popular  little  book  against  hypochondriasis,  than  for  his  lyrical 
poems,  though  these  include,  at  least,  one  excellent  song.  In  a 
more  extended  review  of  German  poetry  we  should  notice  here 
such  writers  as  Yogi,  Draxler-Manfred,  Frankl,  Bauemfeld,  and 
others  whose  names  should,  perhaps,  be  made  hardly  less  promi- 
nent than  some  of  those  which  we  have  mentioned ;  but  our 
narrow  limits  compel  us  to  exclude  some  names.  As  one  re- 
presentative of  the  average  merits  of  several  poetical  contempo- 
raries, JoHAKS  Gabribl  Ssidl,  who  was  the  custodian  of  the 
Vienna  Cabinet  of  Coins  and  Antiquities,  may  be  mentioned. 
His  patriotic  Tyrolese  ballad '  Hans  Euler '  may  be  quoted  as  a  fair 
example  of  a  class  of  lyrio-e^ic  poems  in  which  German  literature 
is  especially  rich : — 

*  Ha  I  listen,  Martha  I  heard  you  not  that  knocking  at  the  door  ? 

Open,  and  call  the  pilgrim  in,  that  be  may  share  oar  store ; 

Ha !  'tis  a  soldier.    Welcome,  sir !  partake  oar  homely  hifi ; 

Oar  wine  and  bread  are  good ;  thank  God !  we  have  enoagh  to  spire  t ' 

'  I  want  no/ood ;  I  want  no  wine  I  *  the  stranger  sternly  said ; 
'  Hans  Euler,  I  have  come  to  pay  my  duty  to  the  dead : 
I  had  a  well-loved  brother  once,  a  brother  whom  you  slew ; 
The  threat  I  uttered  when  he  fell,  I  come  to  prove  it  true ! ' 

Said  Euler  then,  'Tour  brother  fell  in  fairtind  open  fight. 
And,  when  I  strack,  my  arm  was  raised  to  gnard  my  country's  right ; 
But  if  you  must  revenge  his  death — this  is  no  place  for  strife — 
Walk  oat  with  me.    Farewell  awhile^  my  true  and  loving  wife ! ' 

So  sayinf^,  Euler  toolc  his  sword,  and  o'er  the  hilly  road. 
Which  ended  on  a  rocky  mount,  he  onward  boldly  strode. 
Without  a  word,  the  stranger  followed  Euler  on  the  way ; 
And  now  the  night  was  vanishing  before  the  break  of  day. 

And  as  they  walked  on  silently,  the  sun  was  rising  higher, 
.  Till  all  the  mountain-ridges  green  were  touched  with  golden  fire ; 
Soon  as  they  reached  the  chosen  ]>lace,  the  night-mist  o'er  them  coiled, 
And  there^  spread  oat  below  them,  lay  a  glorious  Alpine  world. 

LL2 


616  OUTLINES  OP  GEEJIAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ctt. 

The  stranger  stood  and  sternly  gazed — ^hia  sword  was  in  his  hand — 
While  Euler  pointed  doMm  npon  that  well-loved  T^roUand  : 
*  It  is  for  that  I've  fought/  said  he  ;  *  for  that  dear  land  I've  bled. 
And,  when  he  woold  have  hurt  tha^  land,  I  smote  thy  brother  dead ; 

'  And  now  that  death  must  be  revenged,  and  this  must  be  the  place '  •  •  • 
But  here  the  stranger  dropt  his  sword,  and  looked  in  Eoler's  face : 
Said  he,  <  I  do  forgive  thee— it  was  done  for  Fatherland — 
And  now,  if  thou  canst  pardon  me,  brave  Euler,  here's  my  band ! ' 

Among  tbe  Austrian  and  other  writers  of  lyrical  bailads,  are 
found  some  traces  of  an  imitation  that  seems  to  have  been  uncon- 
scious. The  general  forms  of  ballads  written  by  Goethe,  Uhland, 
and  Heine  have  been  well  remembered.  The  following  lines,  for 
example,  might  be  supposed  to  be  quoted  from  Heine ;  but  tbey 
were  written  by  Count  Auersperg : — 

My  aunt — a  gray  spinster — keeps  an  old  book 

In  which  (when  she  thinks  she's  alone)  she  will  look ; 

For  in  it  there  lies,  on  a  certain  page, 

A  dry,  withered  leaf,  she  has  kept  for  an  age. 

Like  that  token,  the  hand,  too,  is  withered  and  dry 
That  pluck'd  it  and  gave  it»  in  da^s  gone  by. 
That  page  in  the  book  ever  wakens  her  grief ; 
She  sighs  when  she  looks  on  tHe  faded  leaf. 


.]  POEMS  317 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

m 

poracs:— EPio — 'diumatio — ^ltbical — hticks — thb  poetbt  of 

DOXSSTIC  LIFE. 

Thb  best  German  poetry  of  recent  years  is  found  in  the  lyrical 
department,  understood  as  including,  not  only  many  good  songs 
and  hymns,  but  also  numerous  ballads,  or  short  narrative  poems, 
in  which  a  subjective  element  is  prevalent.  It  is  in  poetry  of  this 
kind  that  individuality  is  most  fairly  asserted.  Self -forgetfulness — 
the  power  to  live  and  think  in  a  world  beyond  ourselves — belongs 
to  epic  and  dramatic  poetry.  Without  altogether  denying  that 
recent  poetry  has  here  also  some  successes  to  show,  it  may  be 
asserted  that  they  are  rare,  when  compared  with  the  number  of 
songs  and  ballads  that  deserve  praise. 

Julius  Mosbn,  bom  in  1803,  already  named  (in  Chapter  XXVI.) 
as  a  lyrical  poet,  wrote  an  epic  poem  entitled  Ahasver,  on  the  old 
story  of '  the  Wandering  Jew.'  It  was  by  no  means  as  successful 
as  the  writer's  military  song,  *  The  last  Ten  of  the  Fourth  Kegi- 
ment,'  which  gained  a  remarkable  popularity,  and  was  sung  by 
the  people  in  the  streets.  Mosen's  life — a  hard  contest  with  ad- 
verse circumstances  and  ill  health — was  closed  in  1867. 

We  might  have  classed  with  the  political  poets  of  recent  years 
an  epic  and  lyrical  writer,  Johann  Goitfbibd  Ejkkbl,  who  took 
an  active  part  in  the  movement  of  1848-9,  and,  afterwards,  resided 
for  some  years  in  England ;  but  his  poems,  of  which  the  epic 
Otto  der  ScJmtz  is  one  of  the  best,  tell  us  but  little  of  the  re- 
formatory political  enthusiasm  to  which  he  sacrificed  his  position 
in  his  native  land.  Several  of  his  lyrical  poems  give  proof  of 
earnest  feelings,  which  are  often  gracefully  and  melodiously  ex- 


Among  a  few  writers  in  verse  who  have  shown  a  preference  for 


618  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITEBATURE.  [Cn. 

gay,  comic,  or  humorous  subjects,  August  Kopisch  (who  dis- 
covered the  grotta  azsurra  at  Capri),  Franz  Fbbihkretoh  Gaxtdt, 
and  Robert  Heinick  maj  be  mentioned.  The  last-named  is 
one  of  the  best  of  light,  cheerful,  and  humorous  versifiers,  and  yet 
is  not  destitute  of  pathos,  as  his  story  of  ^Coming Home ' — ^told 
in  very  few  word^^r-may  prove : — 

One  Sunday  mom,  from  far  away 

I  came  into  my  native  place ; 

The  memory  of  ore  lovely  face 
Had  haunted  me  for  many  a  day : 

I  stepp'd  into  the  church,  to  see 

The  spot  where  first  that  fiice  I  saw — 
•  ••••■ 

The  mourners  towards  the  chancel  came ; 

I  followed  them  and  had  no  fear. 

With  roses  covered  stood  the  bier, 
And,  *mid  the  roses  was) — her  name. 

Karl  Joseph  Sikrock  (bom.  in  1802)  is  a  truly  national  writer, 
^  to  whom  many  students  of  Old  German  literature  are  greatly 
indebted.  His  excellent  metrical  translations  of  Middle  High- 
German  poetry  include  the  Nihelungetdied  and  Gudnm,  the  ro- 
mances of  Wolfram  and  Gottfried,  and  Walther's  Minnelieder. 
Several  original  poems  written  by  Simrock,  of  which  '  Wieland 
the  Smith '  is  the  chief,  have  a  true  epic  tone  in  their  narration. 
If  our  space  would  permit,  we  might  do  more  than  merely  name 
Simrock's  excellent  edition  of  the  old  Volksbiicher,  already  briefly 
described. 

Bechstetn,  Bttbe,  Wolfgang  MIxller  (Von  Kowigswintee), 
Katjfkann,  Griippe,  and  Strachwjtz  may  be  mentioned  as 
writers  who  have  given  us  pleasing  modem  versions  of  old  legends; 
but,  without  overlooking  the  merits  of  these  and  many  other  epic 
attempts,  we  must  retain  our  preference  for  the  lyrical  produc- 
tions of  recent  years.  The  whole  character  of  the  age  in  which  we 
are  living  is  unfavourable  to  the  development  of  any  epic  poetry 
on  a  grand  scale,  such  as  was  created  by  Hoker,  or  by  the  brother- 
hood of  poets  represented  by  that  venerable  name.  A  German  epic 
on  *  Waterloo,'  by  Christian  Friedrich  Schersnbsrg  (bom  at 
Stettin  in  1708)  gained  for  its  author  royal  patronage,  and  placed 
him  beyond  the  reach  of  grim  poverty ;  but  that  was,  we  think,  the 
best  of  all  the  results  of  his  long  *  Battle  of  Waterloo.*   That  fight 


XXXI.]  EPIO  POETRY.  519 

was  a  great  event  in  the  world's  history ;  bat  it  does  not  follow 
that  it  can  afford  inspiration  for  a  modem  epic  on  the  grand  scale. 
The  true  national  epic  belongs  to  a  united  and  harmonious  world, 
like  that  Hellenic  force  before  which — when  {rathered  together 
and  made  complete  by  the  reconciliation  of  Achilles — Troj  fell  at 
once  in  ruins.  No  grand  epic  poem  can  be  forced  to  arise  as  a 
miracle  in  the  midst  of  a  world  ctivided  by  controversies  on  all 
the  dearest  interests  of  humanity,'  and  intensely  occupied,  as  our 
too-real  world  is  now,  with  cares  for  the  common  necessities  of 
life  and  anxieties  respecting  the  crude  elements  of  social  existence. 
With  regard,  at  least,  to  the  lengthy  descriptions  of  epic  poetry, 
young  German  writers  would  do  well  to  accept  the  advice  kindly 
given  by  their  own  literary  historian^  Gervinus,  and  heartily  en- 
dorsed by  Mr.  Carlyle.  It  is  to  the  effect  that  what  is  now  wanted 
is  a  working  and  a  non-vooal  poetry. 

*  This  judgment  does  not  exclude  a  willing  admisdon  that  the 
narrative  poems  by  such  writers  as  Nbtjkakn,  ETnitfLLBB,  Otto 
KoQiTETTE,  Robert  WaxbhUlleb  (properly  named  Chables 
Ebxtabd  Dttboc),  and  by  others  inspired  by  epic  ambition,  have 
considerable  merits,  but  good  invention  and  lively  narration  are 
not  enough  to  make  an  epic  live.  Georg  Spixler  vok  Hatjen- 
BcnjLD  (who,  in  literature,  called  himself  Max  Waldaij)  gave 
promise  of  success  in  his  epic  '  Cordula '  and  in  several  lyrics,  but 
he  chose  for  another  epic  poem  a  most  -unfortunate  scriptural 
subject—'  Rahab.' 

For  their  vigour  and  fertility  of  imagination,  "Eerkasv  Lutgo 
(bom  1820),  who  has  not  feared  to  take  for  an  epic  subject  '  The 
Migrations  of  1;he  Peoples/  Joseph  Vigtob  Schbffel,  author  of  a 
vigorous  narrative  poem — '  The  Tmmpeter  of  Sakkingen  '^— and  of 
many  humorous  poems,  and  Robebt  Hameblikg  (bom  1882)^  the 
author  of  Ahmverus  m  Bam,  must  be  named  among  the  more 
successful  writers  of  narrative  verse.  Pattl  Hbyse  (bom  1840), 
is  more  widely  celebrated,  as  a  novelist  than  as  a  verse-writer, 
but  has  written  several  epics  with  a  fluency  of  versification  that 
reminds  us  of  Ernst  Schulze,  the  writer  of  CeciUa,  Paul  Heyse  is 
more  versatile  than  thoughtful.  His  epics,  Dt<  Briider,  Urica 
(1852),  Die  Braut  van  Cypem  (1856),  and  TheMa,  have  been 
followed  H9y  the  dramatic  poems  {Franceska  von  Bitmni  and 
Meleager\  and  by  a  series  of  clever  novels,  which  have  enjoyed  a 
considerable .  popularity,  won  partly  by  their  light  and  elegant 
diction. 


620  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  IJTERATURE.  [Cic 

We  have  still  to  name  as  authors  of  narratiye  poems  Fbiedbich 
Habun  BoDSNSTSBTy  a  writer  of  versatile  talents,  whose  '  Songs 
of  Mirza  Schaffy/  written  in  an  Oriental  manner,  are  more 
aaccessful  than  his  epics,  and  Rusolv  Gottschall  (bom  in  1823), 
well  known  as  a  publicist  and  literary  historian,  and  as  the  editor 
of  Ufimre  Zeit,  His  writings  in  verse  include  the  epics  Carlo  Zeno 
and  MajOf  the  tragedy  of  Maseppa,  and  several  lyrical  poems. 

It  is  in  companies — we  might  almost  say  in  regimente — that 
recent  writers  of  narrative,  dramatic,  and  lyrical  verse  confront  us, 
and  demand  attention ;  but  we  can  do  no  more  here  than  name  a 
few  fair  representatives.  Franz  Loher,  author  of  the  genial 
story  of '  General  Spork,*  and  Adolf  Schults,  who  wrote  an  epic 
on  tiie  fate  of  Louis  XVL,  Thbodor  Fontane,  the  writer  of  some 
pleasing  ballads,  and  Ferdtkanb  Greoorovivs,  an  able  prose- 
writer,  whq  has  produced  in  verse  his  '  Magyar  Songs '  and  some 
poetic  sketches  from  antique  Roman  life  ('  The  Death  of  Tiberias, 
&c.) — these  may  be  added  to  the  list  of  narrative  verse*writers,  and, 
if  our  limits  would  permit,  we  might  also  notice  such  names  as 
Qruppr,  Frankl,  Rappaport,  Glassdrenner  (the  author  of 
some  lively  comic  pieces),  Moritz  Horn,  Schloenbach,  and 
WiLHELii  Hertz.  But  we  must  turn  now  to  notice  some  recent 
productions  in  dramatic  literature. 

This  is  a  department  in  which  failures  are  rather  numerous. 
Among  the  earlier  writers  of  the  period  may  be  named  the 
Austrian  dramatist  Deinharbstbik  and  Karl  von  Holtei,  an 
actor  who  wrote  an  interesting  romance  called  'The  Last 
Comedian.'  The  dramatic  works  of  the  veteran  author  of  the 
period,  Gutzkow,  and  those  of  Heinrich  Laube  hav%  already  been 
briefly  referred  to.  The  names  of  Geibcl  and  Redwitz  are  less 
prominent  in  the  drama  than  in  other  departments  of  poetic 
literature.  The  '  Demiurges '  of  Wilhelh  Jordan  is  a  bold  and 
thoughtful  work,  intended  to  justify  the  ways  of  Providence,  but 
the  poem  is  not  strictly  dramatic.  One  of  Jordan *s  later  works  is 
a  long  epic  in  the  shape  of  a  new  Xibeltwe/eniied,  As  a  writer  of 
light  and  entertaining  pieces  for  the  theatre,  at  Vienna,  Ebuard 
Bafernfeld  (bom  in  1802)  gained  a  considerable  popularity. 
His  liveliness  in  conversations  and  his  cleverness  in  sketching 
characters  of  no  great  power  are  his  chief  merits.  Smilar  traits 
are  found  in  the  comedies  written  bv  JcLius  Roderick  Benedtx 
(bom  in  1811).    His  Doctot   Wespe  and  Der  Weiberfeind  have 


XXXI.]  LYEICAL  POEMS.  521 

been  cmnmended  for  their  akilfal  management  of  intrigues. 
Another  dramatic  poet,  Joeaitx  Oeoso  Fischer  (bom  in  1820), 
the  author  of  '  Saul '  and  *  Friedrich  11./  has  written  numerous 
plearang  lyrical  poems.  One  of  the  most  successful  of  recent 
dramas — Narcis9^  by  Albsbi  Emil  Brachtogel — may  be  men- 
tioned as  an  example  of  a  work  condemned  by  able  critics  but 
triumphant  on  the  stage.  Der  Erhforster  and  Die  Maccab&er  of 
Otxo  Lxa>wiG  have  been  commended  as  possessing  dramatic  power^ 
but  their  tone  is  too  much  like  that  of  HebbeFs  sensational  plays. 
Other  dramatic  writers^FfiETTAG,  the  igivelist,  Gottsghall,  the 
able  joomalist,  Gbiefxnxebl  and  Feodob  Wehl — might  be 
noticed  here ;  but  those  already  named  may  fairly  represent  both 
the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  the  modem  German  stage. 

If  it  has  been  difficult  to  include  within  narrow  limits  our 
notices  of^pic  and  dramatic  writers,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
mention  all  who  have  succeeded  more  or  less  in  lyrical  poetry. 
The  preceding  notices  gf  writers  of  political  yerses;  of  the 
Austrian  poets,  and  of  epic  and  dramatic  authors  have  already 
included  the  names  of  some  of  the  best  lyric  writers.  Instead  of 
attempting,  therefore,  to  make  a  catalogue  of  all  the  names  that 
might  claim  notices  in  any  extensive  work  on  German  poetry, 
we  may  briefly  refer  here  to  one  of  many  volumes  of  selections 
from  the  best  lyrical  poets — Die  Lyrik  der  Deutschen,  edited  by 
HEnmioH  Fbiedbioh  Wilhelui  (1848).'  It  contains  songs,* 
didactic-lyrical  poems,  ballads,  legends,  romances,  odes,  sonnets, 
and  other  poems,  by  more  than  two  hundred  authors  who  have 
lived  since  the  date  of  Goethe's  birth.  As  we  have  noticed,  the 
department  of  poetry  in  which  recent  German  literature  is  es- 
pecially rich  is  that  of  the  lyrical  ballad,  or  the  short  narrative 
and  descriptive  poem  that  serves  to  excite  sympathy  with  the 
writer's  own  sentiments.  We  have  already  g^ven  a  few  speci- 
mens of  the  kind  from  Uhland,  Heine,  and  Platen ;  but  to  repre- 
sent fairly  the  merits  of  a  numerous  class  of  poetical  writers, 
whose  names  have  hardly  been  mentioned  beyond  the  boundaries 
of  their  native  land,  we  may  give— almost  without  any  care  of 
selection-— our  own  translations  of  two^r  three  poems,  which 
are,  however,  not  better  than  some  hundreds  that  must  be  left 
unnoticed.. 

The  following  simple  and  pathetic  romance,  by  a  writer  named 
Rbichskau,  has  an  interest  like  that  of  ]^eiligrath's  '  Emigrant- 


622  OUTLIN£S  OF  GERMAN  LTTEBATUBE.  [Ob. 

« 

Leader.'    The  stjle  of  the  original  ia  so  melodioua  that  it  might 
well  be  set  to  music  as  a  glee  for  four  voices : — 

THE  BANISHED  LITHUANIANS. 

Son,  Why,  O  my  futher,  miut  you  break 
From  the  green  ash  thii  sturdy  etake  ? 
FaAtr,  Tie  to  prog  my  worn  limbs  on  our  long,  long  way^ 
We  most  leaTe  our  dear  land  at  the  break  of  day  t 

l}anghig^.  And,  mother,  why  must  yon  pnt  away 
My  cap  and  firofl||  and  boddioe  gay  ? 
Moiher,  My  daughter,  here  we  no  more  most  stay^ 

We  most  leave  onr  dear  home  in  the  morning  gray  1 

8.  In  yon  new  land  are  the  meadows  green  ? 

Are  the  tront  in  the  clear,  swift  rivers  seen  ?  * 

F.  My  boy,  yon  must  rove  .in  the  fields  no  roore^ 

Nor  throw  out  yonr  line  from  the  pebbled  shore. 

JD.  In  yon  new  land  are  the  flax-flelds  blue  ? 

Will  the  roses  shine  in  the  morning  dew  ? 
Jf.  Snch  joys,  O  my  daughter,  no  more  mnst  be  ours ; 

We  must  say  farewell  to  the  fields  and  flowers  t 

8.  Then,  father,  how  long  must  we  sadly  roam  ? 

Ah,  when  shall  we  once  mora  come  to  our  home  ? 
D.  And,  mother,  when  may  we  return  and  see 

Our  flax-field  and  garden,  so  dear  to  me  ? 

Father^     When  backward  the  river  Niemen  flowi% 

and    >    When  on  the  salt  sea  blooms  the  roee, 
Mother)     When  fruit  on  the  hard  dry  rock  we  find. 
Or— when  our  luler  is  Just  and  kind. 

The  above  is  given  as  a  specimen  of  ballads  having  eonnectioa 
•with  the  interests  of  real  life.  We  psss  over  a  number  of 
romances  founded  on  supernatural  legends.  Bul^  as  a  superior 
specimen  of  the  imaginative  ballad,  we  may  select  one  by  Joasps 
Matzebath,  a  poet  vrho  was  bom  in  1815.  These  verses  present 
to  us  a  fine  ideal,  and.  the  scenery,  though  slightly  touched,  ia 
grand: — 

THE  KING  OF  THE  SEVEN  HILLa 

In  ancient  times,  beside  the  Rhine,  a  king  sat  on  his  throne^ 
And  all  his  people  called  him  'good ' — ^no  other  name  is  known. 

Seven  hills  and  seven  old  castles  marked  the  land  beneath  his  sway ; 
His  children  all  were  beautiful  and  cheerful  as  the  day. 

(Ht,  dad  in  simple  gnments,  he  travelled  through  the  land. 
And  to  the  poorest  suoject  there  he  gave  a  fiiendly  hand. 


XXXI.J  XYBICAL  I'OEMS.  ffS3 

Now  when  this  good  old  king  beUet«d  his  Utest  boar  was  nigh. 
He  bade  bis  servants  bear  him  to  a  neigkboniing  mountain  lugh : 

Below  he  saw  the  pleasant  fields  in  cloadless  sunlight  shine^ 

Wliile  tluongh  the  valleys,  brightly  green,  flowed  peaoefollj  the  Bhine  ; 

And  pastures,  gailj  decked  with  flowers,  extended  IWr  away ; 
While  round  them  stood  the  mighty  hills  in  darkly-blue  array ; 

And  on  the  hills  along  the  Rhine  seven  noble  castles  frown. 
Stem  guardians  I  on  their  charge  below  for  ever  looking  down. 

Long  gazed  the  king  upon  that  land ;  his  eyes  with  tears  o'^ow— > 
He  cries, '  My  own  loved  country  I  I  must  bless  thee  ere  I  go  I— 

*  0  fairest  of  all  rivers !  my  own,  my  noble  Rhine  I 

How  beauteous  are  the  pastures  all  that  on  thy  margin  shine. 

*To  leave  thee,  O  my  land  I  wakes  my  bosom's  latest  sigh, 
Let  me  spend  my  breath  in  Uessing  thee,  and  so,  contented,  die. 

*  My  good  and  loving  people  all !  my  land  t  farewell  for  ever ! 
May  sorrow  and  oppression  come  within  your  borders  never ! 

'May  people,  laud,  and  riter,  all,  in  sure  protection  lie 

For  ever  'neath  the  guardianship  of  the  Almighty's  eye  I  * 

* 

Soon  as  the  blessing  was  pronounced,  the  good  old  king  was  dead, 
And  the  halo  of  the  setting  sun  shone  all  around  his  head. 

That  king  was  always  called  '  the  good  * — no  other  name  is  known ; 
But  his  blessing  still  is  resting  on  the  land  he  called  his  own. 

The  tale  of  the  duke  Eberhard  of  WiiTtemberg,  who  boasted 
that  he  could  safely  fall  asleep  in  his  own  forests  in  a  time  when 
other  nobles  lived  in  enmity  with  their -dependents,  has  been 
yeraified  by  seyeral  anthors.  The  version  from  which  the  foUowing 
stanzas  are  quoted  is  by  ZncuERicAJfN.  Duke  Sberhard  of 
Wiirtembergy  after  listening  to  the  stories  told  by  other  ruler% 
who  boast  of  the  wealth  contained  in  their  dominions^  tells  bis 
own  stoiy  as  follows  :— 

Well ;  you  shall  hear  a  simple  tato  :•«- 

One  night  I  lost  my  way 
Within  a  wood,  along  a  vale, 

And  down  to  sleep  I  lay. 

And  there  I  dreamed  that  I -was  dead. 

And  funeral  lampe  were  shining 
With  solemn  lustre  round  my  head» 

Within  s  vault  reoUnlng. 


524  OUTLINES  OF  QiEBNLAS  UTEBATUBE.  [Gki 

ft 

And  mm.  tnd  women  stood  berido 

My  cold,  Bepnlchnl  bed ; 
And,  ahedding  many  tears,  they  cried, 

'Duke  Ebertiard  is  dead  I ' 

A  tear  upon  my  face  fiell  down. 

And,  waking  with  a  start, 
I  found  my  head  was  resting  on 

A  Wttrtembecgian  heart ! 

k.  woodman,  *mid  the  forest-shade^ 
^  Had  found  me  in  my  rest, 

Had  lifted  up  my  head,  and  laid 
It  sofUy  on  his  breast ! 

The  princes  sat,  and  wondoring  heard. 

Then  said,  as  closed  the  story, 
'Long  live  the  good  Duke  Eberhard-^ 

His  people's  love  his  glory ! ' 

Many  of  the  abort  poeme  dassed  among  roinancea  and  ballads 

,^^^-. ,        Me-Jcemarkable  only  for  the  melody  and  force  of  language  with 

which  they  relate  some  tale  or  anecdote.    Such  is  the  character 

of  the  following  lines  by  Lbitkxb,  telling  the  well-known  atory  of 

oar  King  Canute : —         . 

On  the  strand  at  Southampton  King  Canute  sits  down. 
Clad  in  purple  array,  and  with  sceptre  an(i  crown — 
And  the  waves  are  loudly  roaring. 

At  the  nod  of  his  brow  his  vassals  all  bow. 
And  he  looks,  in  his  pride,  o'er  the  foaming  tide, 
Where  the  waves  are  loudly  roaring. 

Salth  he, '  On  my  throne,  I  am  ruler  alone 
Over  all  the  dry  ground,  far,  far  all  around ' — 
(And  the  waves  are  loudly  roaring). 

'  And  now,  swelling  sea !  I  will  rule  over  thee ; 
I  will  master  thy  waves — ^they  shall  serve  me  as  BlaT«% 
Though  blustering  now  so  loudly. 

But  a  wave,  with  a  roar,  flings  itself  on  the  shores 
And  throws  the  salt  spray  o'er  the  monarch's  array. 
And  curls  round  his  footstool  proudly. 

Now  Canute  throws  down  his  sceptre  and  crown ; 
For  the  voice  of  the  tide  has  astounded  his  pride, 
*Mid  the  billows  round  him  roaring ; 

And  he  says  : — 'What  is  man  I    Let  all  worship  be  paid 
To  the  God  who  the  sea  and  the  dry  land  made^ 
And  who  ruleth  the  billows  roaring  I  *' 


XXXT]  LYRICAL  POEMS.  £25 

In  songs  expressiTe  of  all  the  common  joys  and  sonrowa  of  life 

German  literature  has  been  rich,  from  the  time  of  the  Minne- 

aingers  down  to  our  own.    As  one  proof  of  great  wealth  in  this 

department,  we  may  refer  to  Fdtk's  'Household  Treasury  of 

Songs '  (with  music),  containing  lyrics  for  all  the  seasons  of  the 

year,  for  childhood  and  for  manhood,  for  students  and  for  soldiers, 

and  for  working  men.    In  the  appropriate  minstrelsy  of  childhood 

German  poetry  is  richer  than  our  own.     The  cares  of  these 

practical  times  tend   to    depress  the    enthusiasm  with  which 

remarkable  successes  in  lyrical  poetry  were  formerly  greeted. 

That  enthufflasm  is  expressed  in  the  following  lines  by  Fbaitz 

Gai7DT|  who  has  been  named  as  a  writer  of  humorous  yersea:-^! 

« 
In  the  darkly-cartained  chftmber 
^  The  lamp's  flame  priiramen  low, 

And  throws  a  trembling  lustre 
On  the  old  man's  pallid  brow. 

His  children  stand  together. 

In  silence,  roand  his  bed, 
And  strive  to  diy  their  tears, 

Bat  more  will  still  be  shed. 

Ther  press  each  other's  hand, 

Thdr  anguish  to  conceal ; 
Ho  human  words  can  tell    • 

How  sorrowful  they  feel  I 

Bat  haik  I  some  blithe  companions 

Come^  singing,  down  the  street : 
The  tones  come  nearer,  nearer. 

In  concord  full  and  sweet. 

^    The  old  man  lifts  his  eyelids; 
His  sool  is  deeply  stirr'd— 
He  listens  to  the  music, 
And  catches  every  word.  * 

'  Hy  son's  songs  they  are  singing  I  * 

Says  he,  as  life's  strings  sever ; 
Then  down  he  lays  his  head. 

And  shuts  his  eyes  for  ever. 

It  would  be  hardly  fair  to  dose  these  quotations  from  minor 
poets  of  average  pretensions  without  giving  one  specimen  of  the 
Tersified  legends  of  Catholic  Germany.  In  the  pleasing  legend  by 
Stobsb,  from  which  the  following  stanzas  are  translated,  we  are 
told  how  Cedliay  the  patron-saint  of  music^  travelled  alone  and  aa 


626  OUTUNES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ck. 

a  pilgrim  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine.  A  poor  musician  brings  his 
dumb  boy  to  the  saint^  and  prays  that  she  will  employ  her  inter* 
cession  in  his  behalf : — 

And,  as  he  gazed  upon  her  face 

His  earnest  look  his  faitli  confess'd  ; 
Then  stooped  Cecilia,  full  of  grace, 

And  took  the  boy  upon  her  breast. 
And  thus  she  stood,  in  evening  light. 

With  golden  glory  on  her  head, 
And  heavenly  radiaqce,  calm  and  bright^ 

Upon  her  glowing  face  was  shed. 

Then  tum'd  the  silent  boy  and  pre8B*d 

Upon  her  rosy  lips  a  kiss — 
.  Cecilia  clasped  him  to  her  breast-* 

The  father  stood  in  silent  blis»« 
And  at  that  kiss  the  spring  of  song  * 

Was  open'd  and  flow'd  forth  in  lays : 
Amid  the  wonder  of  the  throng, 

The  dumb  boy  sang  the  virgin's  praise ! 

The  dumb  boy  praised  Cecilia's  might. 

With  angel-voice  so  sweet  and  clear ; 
The  father  trembled  with  delight, 

The  multitude  bowed  down  in  fear. 
All  through  the  land  the  marvel  came, 

And  all  would  learn  the  dumb  boy's  lay ; 
And  of  that  wondrous  kiss,  the  fame 

Is  told  among  us  to  this  day ! 

Though  Vre  have  heard,  during  recent  years,  so  much  of  the 
decay  of  religion,  yet  both  Catholic  and  Lutheran  piety  are 
tolerably  well  represented  in  poetry.  '  The  relinous  poems  of 
Gall  Morel,  a  monk  (bom  in  1803),  deserve  praise  for  their 
union  of  imagination  with  devotion,  and  similar  commendation 
may  be  bestowed  on  the  hymns  and  pietistic  lyrics  written  bj 
JoHAKK  Philipp  Spitta,  suthor  of  Psalter  und  JSatft  (which  has 
passed  through  many  editions)^  and  on  the  devotional  poetry 
written  by  Jtjlius  Stttrk,  JuLnrs  Hamkeb,  Kabl  Berkhard 
Garvb,  Johann  Peter  Langs,  and  Victor  Friedrioh  yok* 
Strat7S8,  who,  we  may  observe,  is  not  related  to  the  more  cele- 
brated Dr.  Strauss.  These  names  are  not  mentioned  as  deserving 
greater  prominence  than  might  be  claimed  by  those  of  many 
other  writers,  who,  however,  must  be  left  unmentioned  in  these 
mere  *  Outlines  *  of  a  yoluminous  poetical  literature.     For  we 


XXXI.]  LYEICAL  POEMS.  62 


*r 


hayft  still  to  notice  the  names  of  a  few  writers  who  may  fairly 
represent  poetry  as  cultivated  by  Overman  ladies. 

Again,  it  is  in  the  lyrical  department  that  the  most  noticeable 
success  has  been  gained.  For  proofs  of  this  we  refer  to  Dob 
ffeUtUche  Jtihr  (*  The  Spiritual  Year  *)  and  other  poems  by 
Akitbttb  Toir  Dbostb-Hulshotf.  The  GbX.fik  Ida  toit 
DiTRiNOSFBLB,  the  Duchess*  AuIlie  of  Saxony  (the  author  of 
several  respectable  dramas),  Katsabiva  Dibz^  and  the  accom- 
plished young  linguist  Elizabeth  Eulxank^  who  wrote  fluent 
verse  in  several  ancient  and  modem  languages,  and  died  at  aa 
early  age; — these  names  may  serve  to  represent  many  German 
ladies  who  have  written  both  poetry  and  verse.  Several  of  the 
descriptive  poems  written  by  LotriSE  vol?  Plosnkibs  have  been 
commended.  We  may  mention,  as  representative  of  domestic 
poetry,  the  truly  gentle  and  feminine  poems  written  by  two 
ladies  who  assumed  respectively  the  names  BExrr  Paoli  and 
DiLiA  Helena.  The  former,  whose  true  name  was  Elizabeth 
Gluck  (born  in  1814)^  often  blended  an  extreme  simplidly  of 
diction  with  fervour  and  purity  of  sentiment  in  her  love-songs 
and  other  poems.  It  is  not  easy  to  reproduce  fairly  even  one  of 
her  songs  -,  but  the  following  stanzas  may  serve  as  an  example  of 
the  first-named  of  their  traits  :— 

That  thy  true  soul 

May  wed  with  minie^ 
And  that  I  may 

Be  ever  thine, 

I  pray,  and  trust 
•   In  God*8  sole  might. 
To  keep  us  one — 
And  so  Good-night  I 

That  DiLiA  Heleva  (whose  name  by  marriage  was  Bbavgo) 
was  the  extreme  opposite  of  an  emancipated  woman,  may  be  seen 
in  one  line  with  which  she  begins  a  lyrical  poem  entitled  'A 
Maiden's  Wish  and  Confession.*  It  should  be  noticed  that  the 
speaker  is  not  inquiring  for  an  engagement  in  domestic  service, 
but  is  addressing  her  intended  husband,  when  she  says : — 

Oh  let  me  be  thy  servant-maid ! 

The  following  stanzas  are  far  better  than  might  be  expected 
after  such  a  beginning.    Here  is  one : — 


628  OXTTUKES  OF  GERMAN  UTKRATXTBEL  l<hu 

• 
When  £rom  your  day*s  work  you  return. 

My  hero  I  there's  a  smQe  to  greet  thee, 
Escaping  from  a  noisy  world— 

And  joyonsly  FU  come  to  meet  thee  1 

This  is  a  traly  domestic  vein  of  poetry,  and  it  ia  naturally 
followed  by  a  series  of  cradle-songs  and  other  verses  for  the 
especial  delectation  of  infancy  and  childhood — ^themes  of  which 
Dilia  Helena  loved  to  write. 

It  may  be  noticed  that,  with  a  few  exceptions,  modem  German 
writers  of  lyrical  ballads  have  avoided  rhetorical  forms,  and  have 
written  iii  accordance  with  the  Wordsworthian  theory  of  poetic 
diction ;  though,  we  believe,  few  of  the  young  poets  of  Germany 
have  any  extensive  knowledge  of  Wordsworth.  It  is  from  the 
example  of  Goethe,  if  not  &om  their  own  instincts,  that  they  have 
learned  the  doctrine,  that  poetry — Uke  truth  and  earnest  feeling 
^oves  plain  words.  Like  beauty,  poetry  has  in  itself  all  the 
decoration  that  it  requires. 


XXXUJ  BECBNT  PSOSB-EIOHON.  £29 


CHAPTER  xvx", 

BBdMT  FBOO-ncnOlf :— TILIIOB  STOBne— BBALUTIO  SOMAMCK— 
TALIS  OV  XBATBL  AMD  ADTXHTUBS — INAini  FICnON — BOXAIICBS 
iriTH  80CIAX.  TBKDXKCIES—KISTOBICAL  BOMAKCBS — HOTBL8  AMD 
8H0BT  81V>BZB8 — ^DOMSSTIC  STOBIES — THB  TBW  TBABA   186(^-70 

A  OOKIBXPORABT  JOUBNALIBT  and  writer  of  literary  history — 
JuLiAir  SoHXiBT — thus  describes,  with  some  liTeliness,  changes 
thaty  daring  reoent  years,  have  taken  place  in  the  social  life,  and 
have  been,  more  or  less  fully,  reflected  in  the  literatare,  of  the 
German  people : — 

*  It  would  be  an  imnienM  mutake,'  he  saya,  'were  anyone  to  imagine  that 
a  trace  remaios  of  the  elements  that  went  to  form  the  pictoie  Madame  de 
Stad  gave  to  the  world  of  na.  The  idealism,  the  dreaminess,  the  moonshine, 
have  had  their  day.  We  have  become  strict  Realists.  The  questions  that 
occupy  ns  in  the  morning,  which  perplex  ns  at  nightfall,' are  bnsinesa 
qnestions.  All  in  art  and  literatare  that  savoared  of  idealism,  dreaminesa^ 
and  moonshine^  is  gone.  We  have  become  aocnstomed  to  deal  better  tha 
we  used  to  do  with  realities,  and  to  describe  things  ak  they  are.  I  had 
conversation  the  other  day  with  one  of  our  best  painters,  in  which  he  told 
me,  in  the  most  animated  manner,  that  he  had  found  a  splendid  subject  for 
a  picture,  that  he  had  now  spent  twelve' months  in  preparatory  studies,  and 
that  he  should  give  the  next  few  years  of  his  life  exdnsivelj  to  the  work. 
Although  myself  a  tolerably  thorough-going  realist,  I  at  once  supposed  that 
he  had  chosen  some  famous  event  in  the  world's  history.  What  was  my 
astonishment  when  he  told  me  that  the  subject  is  an  iron  foundry ! '  * 

There  is,  of  course,  some  humorous  hyperbole  in  this  statement, 
but  it  describes,  on  the  whole  fairly,  the  change  that  has  taken 
place  since  1890.  The  days  when  '  Werther '  was  read  by  all  the 
world  seem  now  to  belong  to  a  remote  antiquity.  Realism  must, 
indeed,  have  made  great  progress ;  for  its  traits  are  found  even  in 
novels  and  romances.  A  few  «teps  in  the  transition  Irom  ideal  to 
real  may  be  noticed. 

•  The  [London]  <  Athenmmi,'  May  18^  1872^ 


530  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTEBATUBE.  [Ce. 

Goetlie*8  ''Werther^  was  followed  by  a  crowd  of  sentimental 
and  psychological  romances;  as  his  *  Gotz '  was  the  ancestor  of  a 
family — more  numerous  than  respectable — of  sa-called  histoncal 
romances.  Then  Wilkdm  Meutetj  though  it  did  not  originate, 
encouraged  the  growth  of  a  prolific  series  of  educational^  didactic, 
moral,  aesthetic  and  quasi-religious  fictions,  which  may- be  safely 
described  as  mostly  tedious  productions,  though  they  are,  perhaps, 
preferable  to  the  *  matrimonial  novels '  and  stories  of  divorce  that 
have  followed,  more  or  less  remotely,  the  example  given  in  Die 
WaMverwandtschaftm,  After  a  series  of  dreary  productions  that 
were  too  kindly  tolerated  for  a  few  years  following  the  War  of 
Liberation,  some  welcome  innovations  appeared  in  stories  of 
domestic  life  written  by  ladies,  and  several  imitators  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott  made  the  historical  romance  rather  more  respectable  than 
it  had  been  in  the  days  of  those  renowned  robbcors,  ''Rinaldo 
Rinaldini '  and  '  Aballino.' 

But  the  greatest  improvement  in  recent  proee-fiction  is  found  in 
a  series  of  stories  of  the  peasantiy.  These  soon  followed  the 
appearance  of  the  pleasant  Westphalian  idyll  which  forms  the 
bright  side  of  Immennann^s  strange  romance,  '  Miinchhausen.' 
About  two  years  before  that  story  was  published,  Albsbt 
BrczrcTS  (bom  in  1797),  a  pastor  in  the  Berne  Canton,  had  gained 
a  reputation  as  a  writer  of  fiction  for  the  people.  He  has  been 
called  the  'father  of  the  modem  epic  of  peasant-life,*  but  this  titie 
mighty  we  think,  be  more  fairly  given  to  JTrnd-SxiiUKe.  As  the 
author  of  Der  Bauemspiegd  and  other  tales,  Bitzius  assumed,  in 
1836,  the  pseudonym,  Jebshias  Gotthxlf,  which  he  soon  made 
more  widely  known  than  his  own  true  name.  This  success  was 
by  no  means  due  to  the  merits  of  his  style,  but  to  the  truthfulness 
and  tbe  (sometimes  coarse)  honesty  of  his  descriptions  of  real 
life  'in  huts  where  poor  men  lie.'  Leiden  und  Freuden  eine* 
Schulmeiders  (fThQ  Joys  and  the  Sorrows  of  a  Schoolmaster'),  UU 
dS'  Knechtj  and  UU  der  Pdchter,  may  be  named  as  fair  examples 
of  Grotthelf  s  stories.  He  died  in  1854.  In  his  Armennoth  he 
follows  Pestalozzi*s  educational  ideas,  and  in  the  Sylvestetiraum 
he  reminds  us  of  one  of  the  '  dreams '  by  Jean  Paul. 

In  tbe  style,  as  in  the  construction,  of  his  stories,  Bitzius  was 
far  inferior  to  his  successor — ^Bebtholb  Aitsbbach,  by  birth  an 
Israelite  (bom  in  1815).  He  is  the  most  successfU  of  all  the 
writers  of  stories  describing  Ibe  life.of  the  6kinnan  peasantry. 


XXXII.]  VILLAGE  STORIES.  531 

His  early  works  'Spinoza '  and '  Poet  and  Merchant '  had  attracted 
some  notice  before  1848,  when  his  graphic  '  Village  Tales  from  the 
Black  Forest '  appeared.  These  soon  gained  for  him  fiEime  at  home 
and  abroad;  and  were  followed  by  other  short  tales  and  by  more 
ambitious  romances — such  as  Auf  der  Soke  and  Da$  Landhmts 
am  Hhein,  In  the  latter  the  author  unites  a  didactic  aim  with  a 
sensational  interest.  Auerbach's  views  of  religion  and  politics  are 
those  of  a  liberal  Israelite  and  a  free  thinker.  His  lively  style  is 
not  the  least  of  his  merits.  The  realistic  traits  of  his  stories  have 
been  greatly  admired ;  but  he  by  no  means  gives  us  the  bare  prose 
of  peasant-life  as  it  is  found  in  some  of  Gotthelfs  stories. 

The  followers  and  imitators  of  Bitzius  and  Auerbach  are  too 
numerous  to  be  noticed ;  but  several  authors  whose  stories  of  life 
in  rural  districts  are  better  than  imitations  should  be,  at  least, 
mentioned  here.  It  might  hardly  be  expected  that  the  author  of 
that  old-world  robber-romance,  AhaUinOy  would  appear  among 
modem  writers  of  moral  and  strictly  utilitarian  tales  for  the 
benefit  of  the  peasantry;  but  Heinrich  Zschokke  lived  long  and 
wrote,  besides  the  well-known  '  Houxs  of  Devotion '  many  stories, 
of  which  '  The'Goldmakers*  ViUage '  may  be  named  as  a  specimen. 
There  is  humour  in  this  writer's  account  of  a  man  elected  as  a 
parish -schoolmaster,  solely  on  the  ground  that  he  vxu  lame  and 
not  JUted  for  a  more  respectable  position  in  society  /  Hobebi 
GiSEKB  (bom  in  1827),  author  of  'Modem  Titans/  and  other 
romances,  and  of  several  dramas,  should  be  named  here  as  the 
writer  of  '  Pfarr^Koschen,  an  Idyll  of  Our  Times.'  Gottfried 
Keller  (bom  in  1816),  author  of  a  series,  of  village  stories  entitled 
Die  Leute  von  Seldtoyla )  Joseph  'ELkSK  (bom  in  1816),  author  ot 
'Tales  from  the  Bohemian  Forest';  Melchior  Metb  (bom  in 
1810),  author  of  some  pleasing  'Stories  firom  the  Ries  District' 
(a  high  plain  in  S.W.  Deutschland) ;  August  Wnj)EKHA.HN, 
Wilhelm  Oertel  (who  assumed  the  name  Von  Horn),  and, 
lastly,  AuGTJST  Sjlberstein  (born  in  1827)  j — ^all  these  deserve  to 
be  named  among  the  authors  of  interesting  stories  of  rural  life. 
The  last-iiamed  is  a  geniid  and  truthful  writer ;  but  he  mixes  an 
Austrian  dialect  with  his  Hochdentech,  His  DorfschwaJben  and 
Die  Hdualerinn  are  fair  specimens  of  his  stories. 

With  regard  to  originfdity,  or  innovilon,  we  may  place  nez  to 
the  improved  Village  Stories  of  recent  years  a  series  of  romances 
and  novels  which  profess  to  introd^  their  readers  to  soenea  in  real 


532  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITER \TUEE.  [Ch. 

life  80  it  exists  among  the  middle  clftsses.  Here  we  hare  anotlier 
deyelopment  of  the  xealism  which  is  increasing,  not  only  in  fiction, 
but  even  in  literary  history  and  philosophy.  Instead  of  studying 
systems,  readers  now  ask  for  anecdotes  respecting  the  domestic 
affairs  of  philosophers.  A  general  notion  preyails  that  too  many 
young  men  haye  been  made  degenerate  by  reading  refined  and 
ideal  poetry,  and  that  they  must  take,  as  tonics,  courses  of  lectures 
on  Adam  Smith's  economy,  or  make  themselves  acquainted  with 
the  morals  and  the  literature  of  English  Joint-Stock  Companies. 
Extremes  meet  The  Germans  are  becoming  very  practicaL 
They  turn  away  from  the  Romantic  School,  and  accept  theories  in 
favour  of  a  reformed  dietary  and  of  a  strenuous  course  of  'physical 
hardening '  and  '  Tunwerein '  practice,  as  tending  to  initiate  a  new 
school  of  sanitary  poetry,  which  will  be  followed,  perhaps,  by  a 
'moscular '  philosophy.  All  this  in  the  land  of  Kant  and  HegeT  I 
The  intellectual  pride  that  invented  the  namb  '  Philistine,'  as  a 
stigma  for  quiet,  virtuous  and  plodding  tradesmen,  is  condemned 
as  heretical^  Poetry  itself,  we  are  told,  should  be. made  the 
handmaid  of  commerce  and  should  be  confined  within  Philistia. 
GusTAv  FsxTTAa,  a  Silesian,  (bom  in  1816)  has  endeavoured, 
with  success,  to  realise  thiB  grand  notion.  He  studied  in  Breslau 
and  Berlin,  and  was,  for  some  time,  employed  as  a  journalist 
The  literary  reputation,  first  gained  by  several  dramas — Die 
Valentine,  Die  JoumaUeten  and  Die  JFabier — ^was  greatly,  increased 
by  his  commercial  romance  Sof  und  Haben  (1855),  which  soon 
passed  through  seven  or  eight  ditions,  and'  was  translated  into 
French  and  English.  It  has  been  described  as  the  romance  of 
'  Philistine  life,'  including  under  that  title  all  the  ordinary  cares 
and  interests  of  the  commercial  class.  One  of  the  chief  characters 
in  the  story  is  T.  O.  Schroter,  the  principal  of  a  mercantile  firm,  a 
man  possessing  good  talents  for  business,  who  treats  judiciously 
and  kindly  the  subordinate  Philistines  employed  in  his  house. 
One  of  his  clerks.  Fink,  is  the  true  hero  of  the  story,  though 
another,  Wohlfahrt,  might,  here  and  there,  appear  as  the  hero. 
The  quiet  yet  intei^esting  progress^  of  the  story  and  the  excellent 
wj^iling  found  in  many  passages  have  been  generally  commended ; 
but  the  author's  attempt  to  initiate  '  a  poetry  of  trade '  has  been 
ridiculed  by  Prutz  and  other  poetical  critics  retaining  old-world 
prejudices  against  'Philistine  people,'  and  the  great  world  of 
commerce.  ^ 


XXXU.]       "  REALISTIC  NOVEIfl.  533 

The  tone  of  the  story  itself  is  more  condliatory,  as  well  as  more 
sober^  than  the  language  used  by  adverse  critics.  The  gentlemen 
employed  in  the  house  of  T.  O.  Schroter  are  made  to  appear 
highly  respectable — excepting  Herr  Fink, — but  it  seems  imfair 
that  almost  aU  the  tricks  in  trade  and  other  sins  mentioned  in  the 
course  of  the  story  should  be  ascribed  to  two  unfortunate  Israelites. 
For  many  readers  one  of  the  chief  merits  of  the  book  is  its  com' 
parative  want  of  the  Interest  called  '  strongly  sensational/  A 
later  story  by  Freytagis  entitled  '  The  Lost  Manuscript '  (1864), 
and  introduces  us  to  a  professor  of  philology  who,  in  the  course 
of  his  travels  in  quest  of  an  ancient  copy  of  Tacitus,  fmds  an 
excellent  wife,  of  whom,  however,  he  does  not  take  sufficient 
care.  Several  literary  characters  who  take-  parts  in  the  story 
are  described  as  at  heart  'PhiUstines,'  and  almost  as  merce- 
nary and  materialistic  as  T.  0.  Schroter  and  his  clerks  in  Soil  und 
Haben, 

Turning  away  from  this  new  imaginative  literature  of  com- 
merce, we  find  realism  in  another  form  in  many  tales  of  travels  and 
of  marvellous  adventures  that  have  gained  popularity  during 
recent  years.  Friedsioh  Wilhelh  HACSLiLErDBB  (bom  in 
1816),  who  served  for  a  short  time  in  the  Prussian  Artillery,  and 
Fbibdbich  QfiBSTiLcKER  (also  bom  in  1816),  may  be  classed  to- 
gether as  writers  of  realistic  romances.  The  latter  emigrated  to 
America  in  1837  and  there— after  working  as  a  sailor,  a  farm- 
labourer,  a  wood-cutter,  a  goldsmith,  and  a  manufacturer  qf  pill- 
boxes—travelled far  and  collected  materials  for  such  stories  as 
'The  Regulators  of  Arkansas  *  and  '  Lights  and  Shades  of  Trans- 
atlantic Life.'  The  shadows  are,  indeed,  dark  enough  as  given 
by  Gerstacker.  HacklAitdsk,  by  an  error  too  common  in  recent, 
hasty  criticism,  has  been  called  *  the  German  Dickens.'  Putting 
afflde  that  injudicious  comparison,  it  may  be  said  that  Hack- 
lander,  like  Gerstacker,  derives  his  best  scenes  and  characteristics 
from  recollections  of  realities.  In  the  former's  sketches  from 
<  Military  Life  in  Time  of  Peace,'  as  in  the  latter's  'Kegulators 
of  Arkansas'  and  'River-Pirates  of  the  Mississippi,'  we  have 
lively  narratives  and  descriptions  given  without  any  regard  for 
'tendency'  and  with  a  happy  carelessness  about  psychological 
motives.  There  is,  however,  a  tendency,  strong  enough,  in  Ger- 
stacker's  story  of  '  Tahiti ; '  for  its  object  is  to  show  that  Chris- 
tian missions,  both  Catholic  and  Protestant^  have  served  only  to 


534  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  LTTEBATUEK  [Ck. 

destroy  the  happiness  formerly  enjoyed  by  the  natives  of  seyeral 
pleasant  islands  in  Polynesia. 

Another  writer  of  ethnographic  romances  founded  on  adren- 
tures  in  the  New  World,  was,  during  his  literary  career,  known 
only  by  his  assumed  name,  Chablbs  Sealspield.  His  true  name 
(which  was  first  made  known  after  his  decease  in  1864)  was  Karl 
PosTSL.  He  was  bom  in  1793,  and  was  educated  in  a  convent  at 
Prague,  from  which  he  ran  away  in  1822.  He  subsequently 
travelled  far  and  wide  in  the  west  of  America^  and  there  collected 
the  materials  for  which  he  found  uses  in  his  romances.  His 
writings  often  express  strong  political  tendencies^  and — like  F. 
Cooper,  the  American  author — he  likes  to  tell  a  sensational  story 
of  ^e  defence  of  a  lonely  block-house  against  m  tribe  of  Bed 
Indians,  or  of  the  long  and  circular  ride  of  a  traveller  lost  on  a 
boundless  prairie.  At  last  he  sees,  witli  a  rapture  of  thankful- 
ness, the  prints  lefti  as  he  supposes,  by  a  preceding  traveller,  who 
hsa  found  his  way  out  of  the  solitude.  The  lost  man  follows  in 
the  track  marked  out  for  his  guidance,  repeats  his  own  cir- 
cular ride,  and  comes  back  to  the  lonesome  place  from  which  he 
started  I  There  are  many  stories  told  by  Sealsfield  that  are  far 
more  sensational  than  this.  His  '  Legitltnlsts  and  Republicans,' 
the '  Transatlantic  Sketches,'  the  story  of  '  Ralj^h  Doughby's 
Wedding- Journey/  and '  Nathan,'  are  fair  spedm^  of  this  author's 
fictions. 

Among  other  writers  of  ethnographic  romances,  SieHuim 
Wallace,  author  of  '  Lights  and  Shades  ficom  Asia,  Africa,  and 
Europe,'  Baldttin  Mollhausest,  author  of  'The  Half-Indian,'  and 
Hbikbioh  Smidt  (1708-1867),  who  wrote,  beudes  romances^ 
many  stories  of  marine  adventures,  may  be  named.  Thbodob 
MxJOGS,  a  very  prolific  author,  who  in  his  fictions  made  the  utmost 
possible  use  of  his  own  travels  in  Norway,  and  Edmttvd  Hoefeb, 
the  author  of  many  short  and  popular  stories — Aus  dem  Volke,  Au$ 
alter  und  neuer  Zeit,  and  Auf  detUscher  Erde — may  be  named  to- 
gether, on  account  of  the  realistic  traits  that  distinguish  their 
works  of  fiction. 

The  prominence  here  given  to  tales  of  the  peasantry  and  to  stories 
of  travel  ^d  adv^ture  may  be  justified  by  their  general  merits, 
a^  substitutes  for  unwholesome  or  inane  stories  of  intrigue,  in 
which  are  found  the  faults  without  the,  attractions  of  many 
recent  French  novels.    It  is  in  this  class  of  fictions— descendants 


2:XXIL]  INAKB  FIOnOK.  535 

from  the  SaUndiUratut  of  former  years — ^that  flome  ci  the  weakeBt 
and  worst  contributions  to  recent  German  literature  are  found. 
It  is  here  that  writers  falsely  describe  the  facts  of  life  and  society, 
and  imagine  that  untruth  is  a  substitute  for  poetiy.  History  in 
its  broad  outlines  leaves  unnoticed  the  finer  lights  and  shades  of 
private  characters,  and  scenes  in  domestic  life.  To  supply  these 
traits  appears  to  be  the  ^uty  of  fiction,  which,  while  free  with 
regard  to  names,  dates,  and  the  order  of  events,  should  still  be 
essentially  true.  If  judged  by  this  rule,  many  so-called  fashion- 
able historical  romances  must  be  condemned.  '  Of  old  '  popular 
legends,'  though  their  adventures  are  fanciful,  we  would  speak 
with  respect,  for  under  all  their  wild  imagery,  they  often  convey 
a  deep  and  true  meaning.  Our  censure  applies  to  fictions,  neither 
real  nor  ideal,  which  describe  neither  this  present  world  nor  any 
better  state  of  society.  Such  tales,  having  no  basis  either  in 
poetic  imagination  or  in  observation  of  life,  attempt  to  supply  the 
defect  by  introducing  a  worn-out  series  of  fictitious  characters. 
Here  we  find  the  wicked  steward,  and  the  hero,  who,  without  a 
purpose,  and  impelled  hither  and  thither  by  others,  obtains  at 
last  perfect  happiness  in  the' shape  of  a  princely  estate.  Here  also 
is  the  rival,  full  of  wickedness,  but  emplo^g  sagacity  and  perse- 
vering energy  which  are  doomed  to  be  made  fruitless  by  a  stroke 
of  the  novel-writer's  pen.  Here  also  is  the  innocent,  but  myste- 
rious heroine,  radiant  with  a  supernatural  beauty ;  and  here  we 
meet  (too  often)  the  wandering  gentleman,  vrithout  funds,  who 
travels  everywhere  vrithout  meaning  or  purpose,  and  thinks 
nothing  of  leaving  London,  and  journeying  over  the  Continent  in 
order  to  have  the  pleasure  of  abruptly  meeting  the  heroine  at 
Vienna !  These  are  some  of  the  beauties  of  third-class  fictions. 
To  supply  the  defects  of  their  native  library  of  fiction,  German 
readers  have  largely  imported  foreign  novels.  Many  articles  from 
the  grand  Parisian  manufactory  of  fictions,  by  ''Alexandre 
Dumas  (the  elder)  and  Co.,'  have  been  imported.  English  novels 
describing  the  exploits  of  highwaymen  and  housebreakers  are 
read  with  pleasure.  Among  better  novels  translated  and  read  in 
Germany,  the  works  of  Scott,  Bulwer,  Miss  Edgeworth,  Washings, 
ton  Irving,  Cooper,  and  Douglas  Jerrold  may  be  named.  The 
writings  of  Charles  Dickens  have  gained  in  Germany  a  wide 
popularity ;  and  allusions  to  scenes  in  '  Pickwick'  and '  Nicholas 
NicUefay '  have  been  employed  to  illustrate  points  in  philosophical 


536  OUTLINES  OF  GEpMAlfr  LTTERATUBE.  [Co. 

writings.  It  is  pleasant  to  find  Oliver  Goldsmith's  'Vicar  of 
Wakefield 'appreciated  by  German  readers  as  'a  model  of  fiction, 
foil  of  mild  humour,  true  humanity,  and  practical  wisdom^  and, 
at  the  same  time,  thoroughly  poetical.' 

There  is  no  ground — ^however  sacred~*which  modem  writers  of 
.novels  and  romances  have  not  invaded,  and  it  would  be  vain  to 
attempt  an  enumeration  of  the  topics  and  interests  vnth  which 
tbey  have  interfered.  Excepting  mathematics  and  the  pbysical 
sciences — ^it  may  be  said  that  fiction  has  invaded  aU  departments 
of  study.  The  history  of  Germany,  in  all  the  centuries  from 
the  fourteenth  to  the  present,  and  the  histories  of  England, 
France,  and  Itidy ;  the  biographies  of  painters,  poets,  musicians, 
actors,  actresses,  opera-singers,  philosophers,  and  even  'dry<-as- 
du6t'  philologers,  have  all  been  treated  more  or  less  boldly 
in  romances.  Worst  of  all  are  the  contssversial  romances,  too 
often  inspired  by  no  better  muse  than  odiwn  thetdogicum,  and 
attacking  Jesuits,  orthodox  Lutherans,  Pietists,  Pantheists,  and 
free  theologians.  One  author  writes  a  satirical  novel  entitled 
'The  Orthodox;'  another  replies  with  'The  Conversion  of  an 
Infidel,'  and  so  the  game  goes  on.  A  better  class  of  fictions  (but 
one  containing  many  tedious  books)  is  represented  by  a  series  of 
novels  or  romances  describing  culture  and  social  progress.  Stories 
written  in  favour  of  '  the  emancipation  of  women '  come  next ; 
then  the  '  Mysteries  of  Berlin'  or  'of  'N^enna/  in  the  manner  of 
Eugtoe  Sue.  We  would  speak  with  more  respect  of  romances 
intended  to  serve  an  educational  purpose.  One  of  the  veteran 
GiTTZKow's  latest  fictions — 'The  Sons  of  Pestaloszi' — ^may  be 
called  a  sensational-educational  story,  for  it  describes  the  training^ 
of  a  second  Elaspar  Hauser. 

One  of  the  most  versatile  of  recent  authors,»RoBEBT  Eduabd 
Pbitez  (1816-72),  may  be  named  here  as  the  writer  of  a  social 
romance.  Das  Engdchen,  intended  to  expose  abuses  attending  the 
emplojrment  of  people  in  factories.  His  other  fictions  in  prose— 
Felixy  Der  Musikantentkurmf  and  Obemdarf—hnyo  also  social  or 
political  tendencies.  Prutz  might  have  been  named  among  the 
'  political  poets  and  rhymesters  of  1840-48,  but  his  talent  was 
rather  critical  than  poetical,  and  his  best  works— recommended  by 
a  lively  style — belong  to  literary  history  and  criticism.  In  the 
last-named  department  he  is  by  no  means  dispassionate  and 
impartial.    His  '  German  Literature  in  1848-58 '  might  be  espe* 


XXXn.]  mSTOBICAL  BOHANCES.  537 

dally  notioed  to  refute  tbe  old  notion  of  describing  educated 
Germans  as  a  dreamy  and  phlegmatic  race.  It  would  be  more 
correct  to  ascribe  to  them  the  perfervidum  ingenium  Scatorum. 

'The  Egotists,'  aa  one  of  the  more  realistic  of  Gt7STA.y  yoic 
Sbk's  romances,  may  be  named  here.  Among  the  youngest  of 
writers  of  romances  'with  social  tendencies/  Fbiedsich  Sphel- 
HAOEFy  bom  in  1820,  may  be  named  as  the  writer  of '  Problematic 
Natures '  and  <  Through  the  Night  to  the  Light  '—two  of  the 
more  successful  works  of  their  class.  In  the  former  he  describes 
the  characters  of  men  who  can  find  in  the  world  tio  place  and  no 
work  that  is  good  enough  for  them.  These  are  the  grand,  solitary 
souls  of  the  school  of  poetiy  introduced  by  Lord  Byron.  JSm 
verlarenes  OeschUckt,  by  Max  Rino,  and  Der  Kampfums  Dagein, 
by  Robert  Btb,  may  be  also  mentioned  as  romances  having  a 
purport  more  or  less  practical 

Having  thus  given  priority  to  stories  having  some  special 
interest  or  novelty  belonging  to  our  times,  we  may  more  briefly 
notice  a  few  specimens  of  historical  romances.  The  author  who 
first  demands  our  attention  in  this  department  is  HsnrBiCH 
JoBXPH  KoBHie,  a  veteran  in  fictitious  literature,  who  died  in 
1860  at  the  advanced  age  of  seventy-nine  years.  like  Tieck,  Eosnig 
introduces  in  one  of  his  romances  our  poet  Shakspere.  Other  stories, 
including  Aisch  erne  Jugend,  which  is  autobiographical,  Die  hohe 
Braid  (a  tale  of  the  French  Revolution),  and '  The  Waldenses,'  are 
partly  founded  on  the  recollections  of  the  writer's  long  life,  and  are 
made  vehicles  for  the  expression  of  his  own  liberal  opinions  on 
religion  and  politics.  We  may  name  next  to  Eoenig,  and  as 
writers  of  historical  romances,  Rshfttbs,  the  author  of  Sc^pio 
Cicaktf  R1ELI8TAB,  who  wrote  a  romance  entitled  '1812,'  and 
Sf  iKDLiSR,  whose  stories  once  enjoyed  a  vride  popularity. 

Another  persevering  veteran  in  writing  historical  romances  and 
other  fictions  was  G.  W.  HlBive,  bom  in  1708,  who,  as  an 
author,  assumed  the  name  Wilibaij)  Axexis,  and  produced  (in 
1822)  Waladmor,  an  imitation  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  manner.  It 
was  well  received,  and  was  soon  followed  by  other  romances.  In 
1852  the  author  published  a  story  with  the  odd  title,  'To  be 
quiet  is  the  first  Duty  of  a  Oitizen.'  HJLBiKe  was  one  of  the 
editors  of-  Dos  neue^  PUaval,  a  voluminous  and  well-knovni  collec- 
tion of  criminal  histories  and  remarkable  trials. 

Lsvnr  ScHucKure,  a  Westphalian^  who  has  been  successful  as 


638  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATTJBR  [Ch. 

a  writer  of  historical  romances,  excels  in  tlie  narration  of  details, 
and  gives  a  local  colouring  and  interest  to  his  stories.  Schlon 
Domegge  is  one  of  his  best  productions.  His  wife,  well  known 
by  her  maiden  name,  Luise  yon  Gall,  wrote  Gegen  den  Strom^ 
and  I^aumnovellen — the  latter  including  seyeral  pleasing  stories 
of  domestic  interest. 

To  return  to  historical  romances — two  or  three  recent  authors 
have  treated  mediffival  history  in  a  style  more  realistic  than  that 
of  the  Romantip  School.  Among  the  few  writers  who  have 
studied  facts  before  writing  fictions,  Fbavz  Tsautkavn  (bom  in 
1810)  should  be  named.  In  his  story  of  JSppelein  von  GeUmgen^ 
an  aristocratic  '  Rob  Roy '  who  '  lived  by  the  saddle  '-r>in  other 
words,  by  plunder  and  murder — there  are  passages  of  quaint 
humour  that  might  hardly  be  expected  in  a  romance  well  founded 
on  grim  realities.  Similar  realistic  traits  are  found  in  the  same 
writer's  '  Adventures  of  Duke  Christopher  of  Bavaria,'  especially 
in  its  best  episode,  '  The  Story  of  the  Clerk  at  the  Seldenthal 
Convent.' 

Proofs  of  careful  studies  of  old  times  are  also  found  in  a  singular 
story,  entitled  '  Maria  Schweidler,  or  the  Amber  Witch,'  which 
was  written  by  Wilhslm  Meikholb.  Having  carefully  studied 
the  processes  of  trials  for  supposed  witchcraft,  which  weie  the 
disgrace  of  German  civilisation  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
Meinhold  wrote  his  story,  and  published  it  as  a  true  narrative, 
founded  on  a  document  preserved  in  an  old  church.  And  such 
was  the  accuracy  of  its  descriptions  of  costume,  manners,  and 
language,  that  it  was  received  by  many  as  authentic  history. 
Though  the  true  origin  of  the  tale  is  now  discovered,  it  may  still 
be  read  with  interest,  as  it  gives  a  faithful  account  of  a  supersti- 
tion to  which  many  hundred  of  lives  were  sacrificed.  Meinhold 
wrote  another  tale  of  the  same  character,  entitled  '  Sidonia  von 
Bork,  the  Convent  Witch  ; '  but  it  is  an  inferior  production.  It 
is  said  that  the  author^s  aim  in  vnriting  these  '  cunningly  devised 
fables'  was  to  test  the  sagacity  of  negative  Biblical  critics,  who 
had  rejected  many  narratives  formerly  accepted  as  authentic 
history.  Passing  over  several  inferior  works  of  fiction  founded 
on  medieval  history  aud  tradition,  we  must,  at  least,  name 
Hkkehard,  a  tale  of  the  tenth  century,  by  Jobsph  Vioiob 
ScHEFFEL,  well  known  as  the  writer  pf  a  series  of  humorous 


XXXn.]  SKETCHES  OE  CHAEAOTEB.  539 

poenu,  entitled  'Gaudeamne^'  and  of  a  Tigarous  epic,  'The 
Trumpeter  of  Sakkingen.' 

While  80  manj  writers  have  bhoaeii  in  prose-fiction  the  diffuse 
form  of  the  romance,  emhracing  often  the  whole  etoiy  of  a  life- 
time, othem  have  frequently  confined  themselyes  within  the 
proper  limits  of  ttie  old  Italian  novel.      Among  these  latter 

writers,  AlBZAITDXB  FkEIHHBR  von  UNGERK-STBRNBESe  (1806- 

68)  has  heen  espedallj  commended  for  the  Tersatilitj  displayed 
in  his  noyels  and  short  stories,  which  include '  Eduard,'  *  Lessing,' 
and  'Jena  and  Leip^g.'  Adyerse  critics  accuse  Sternberg  of 
pliability  in  following  the  changeful  literary  fashions  of  his  time, 
and  others  censure  seyerely,  but  not  without  reason,  the  tendency 
of  several  of  his  more  frivolous  fictions.  '  Diana '  has  been  com- 
mended as  the  author's  most  interesting  rcSnance.  The  best 
apology  made  for  Sternberg's  .frivolous  stories  (which  may  be  left 
unnamed)  consists  in  the  fact  that  they  were  severely  condemned 
by  the  writer's  better  jddgpnent 

Paul  Hsrss,  already  named  as  a  writer  of  epic  poetry,  has 
gained  high  commendation  by  the  neat  construction  and  the 
elegant  style  of  his  novels.  He  is  one  of  the  few  modern  German 
writers  who  artistically  keep  the  novel  within  its  own  proper 
limits,  as  distinct  from  the  wider  boundary-line  of  the  romance. 
Za  MMriata  may  be  named  as  one  of  his  best  works  in  prose- 
fiction.  Am  TiberufeTf  Dos  MUddun  von  Treppi,  and  Andrea 
Deffin,  are  praised  for  their  ingenious  construction  and  graphic 
power.  In  other  stories,  as  ia-Die  BUndeny  the  writer's  selection 
of  subjects  is  less  commendabll  than  his  graceful  and  lively  style 
of  narration. 

Several  writers  of  fiction,  whose  merits  may  be  equal  to  those 
of  some  of  the  authors  who  have  already  been  named  must,  for 
want  of  space,  be  left  imnoticed.  One  eccentric  writer,  lately 
deceased,  BoauMiL  Ooltz,  the  author  of  numerous  short  stories, 
sketches  of  character,  lectures  and  essays,  should  be  named  as  a 
genial  and  original  observer  of  hunlan  life.  His  writings  are 
often  defective  with  regard  to  form  and  good  taste,  but  combme 
the  realism  of  the  present  time  with  an  imaginative  dreamery 
and  poetry  that  often  remind  us  of  Jean  Paul.  The  greatest 
successes  of  Goltz  are  seen  in  some  of  his  sketches  of  women. 
He  loves  to  satirise  them,  bat  has  no  bad  meaning. 

We  have  next  to  name  several  ladies  who  have  gained  reputa- 


540  OUmiNES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUIIK  [Oh. 

lion  as  writers  of  noyels  mid  romances  that  have  enjoyed  a 
considerable  popularity.  Attgttstb  von  Paalzow  (1788-1847), 
a  lady  who  was  one  of  Wilhelm  Ton  Humboldt^s  friends,  wrote 
*  Godwie  Castle/  and  several  other  historical  romances,  of  which 
two  of  the  best  are  '  St.  Roche '  and  '  Thomas  Thymau.'  Their 
tone  is  generally  aristocratic,  but  mostly  in  the  lesthetic  sense  of 
the  word.  The  authoress  had  delight  in  describing  the  life  of 
the  nobility,  because  she  loved  refinement  of  manners. 

Ida  QRiLpiir  von  ELlhn-Hahn  (born  in  1805)  was  the  daaghter 
of  an  eccentric  nobleman  holding  estates  in  Mecklenburg- 
Schwerin.  Her  earlier  writings — Fatutine^  Sigismund  Fordetf 
and  CSect/— described  a  life  pf  ambition  and  unrest  in  aristoiratic 
society ;  but  after  1852,  when  the  Countess  retired  to  a  convent, 
she  repented  of  alf  her  literary  errors  and  sins,  and  wrote  '  From 
Babylon  to  Jerusalem,'  and  'Out  of  Jerusalem,'  in  which  she 
endeavoured  to  describe  the  motivM  that  had  led  to  her  change  of 
confession. 

The  novels  written  by  Fanny  Lbwald,  by  birth  an  Israelite, 
include  'Clementine,'  'A  Life- Question,'  and  'Prince  Louis 
Ferdinand' — all  noticeable  for  their  reflective  character  and 
practical  social  tendency.  The  authoress  has  been  successful  as  a 
writer  of  books  of  travels. 

Ida  von  Dubingsfeld,  already  named  as  a  writer  of  verse,  is 
also  known  as  the  author  of  Schlon  Chcssyn  and  other  romances^ 
including  '  Margaret  of  Valois  and  her  Time,'  but  these  fictions 
have  been  less  successful  than  the  author's  lyrical  poems. 

Among  several  German*  ladies  Vho  have  written  fictions  in' 
favour  of  their  own  '  emancipation,'  Lvisb  Aston  may  be  named 
as  one  chief  representative^  while  Lxjisb  Otto  deserves  mention 
as  a  more  moderate  successor  in  advocating  the  same  principle, 
which  was  also  miuntained,  at  least  in  their  earlier  fictions,  by 
AxELY  BoLTB  and  Jvlib  Bubow.  The  new  doctrine  was  as- 
serted in  its  extreme  form  in  the  earlier  of  the  romances  written 
by  LiTiSE  MuHLBACH  (by  marriage  Claba  Mundt),  the  authoress 
of  a  long  series  of  historical  romances,  in  which  fiction  is  made 
predominant  over  facts. 

Other  ladiep  have  mostly  confined  their  attention  to  stories 
treating  of  the  ordinary  cares  and  interests  of  domestic  life.  In 
this  class  may  be  named  the  stories  written  by  M abia  Naxjelubius, 


XXXn.]  THE  TEN  YEAES  1860-1870.  541 

and  others  by  Ottilib  Wudbbmitth,  author  of  'Pictuxes  from  a 
Home  in  Suabia/ 

In  connection  with  these  and  other  quiet  stories  of  home  life, 
should  be  noticed  a  few  specimens  from  the  eztensiye  library  pro- 
vided for  children.  It  will  be  sufficient  to  refer  here  to  the  series 
of  sentimental  juvenile  tales  written  by  the  Catholic  author, 
Ohbistoph  voir  Schkid  ;  to  the  well-known  legends  and  fairy- 
tales 6ollected  and  edited  by  the  Brothers  Grimh  ;  to  the  fables 
cleverly  illustrated  by  Oixo  Speckteb  ;  and^  lastly,  to  the  long 
Eeries  of  stories  for  children  written  by  Gitstav  Nibbitz. 

During  the  last  ten  or  twelve  years,  authors  of  lyrical  poetry 
and  of  prose-fiction  have  been  sufficiently  prolific,  but  they  have 
hardly  refuted  the  assertion  of  Gervinus— that  the  vocation  of  our 
limes  is  practical  and  not  poetical.  There  is  no  want  of  talent 
among  the  young  men  of  the  New  Empire,  but  the  greatest  minds, 
though  they  may  derive  their  impulses  from  Heaven  itself,  must 
be  limited  by  the  age  in  which  they  live.  Poetry,  like  every 
other  product  of  the  mind,  has  its  own  natural  history,  and,  with 
regard  to  power  and  success  in  its  expression,  is  dependent  upon 
time,  place,  and  circumstances.  There  is  a  point  at  which  it 
becomes  impossible  to  row  upwards  against  the  stream.  The  age 
in  which  we  are  living  is  a  gigantic  age  with  respect  to  material 
progress ;  but  our  predecessors  have  left  us  to  grapple  with  the 
hardest  problems  of  society  before  we  can 'earn  for  ourselves  either 
moral  or  sssthetic  repose.  The  man  whose  life  is  well-regulated 
in  its  relations  with-nature  and  with  society,  fulfils  the  duties  of 
the  day,  and,  in  the  evening,  may  find  solace  in  poetry,  painting, 
or  music,  or  may  retire  into  the  quietude  of  philosophy.  But  poetry 
seems  out  of  place  when  cultivated  by  the  man  who  is  vexed  by 
law*  suits,  pursued  by  hungry  relatives,  and  urged  by  the  cares  of 
providing  for  to-morrow ;  and  Society,  in  some  parts  of  our  crowded 
and  discontented  Europe,  may  now  be  fairly  represented  by  tiiat 
unhappy  individual.  As  Mr.  Carlyle  has  so  often  said,  what  is 
wanted  now  is '  a  non-vocal  poetry.'  Wd  must  have  great  things 
first  done  for  the  moral  education  of  the  people,  for  .emigration, 
and  for  the  organisation  of  labour,  and  when  we  have  succeeded, 
songs  may  celebrate  our  success.  The  root  must  be  supplied  with 
nutriment,  the  stem  must  be  trained,  and  then  the  flower  of  a 
true  poetic  literature  will  bloom  out. 

For  lessons  as  severe  as  th^  the  poetical  men  of  the  New 


542  OUTUNBS  OF  GERMAN  LTIXEATXTBE.  [Cs. 

Empire  are  hardly  jet  prepared.  Getbel,  Earl  Beck,  Paul  Heyse, 
Gottflcbally  Hermann  lAngg,  Robert  Hamerlingi  Julius  Groaae  and 
others  have  been  producing  lyrical  poetry  during  the  last  few 
jean,  and  Albert  Traeger  still  flourishes  as  the  poet  of  that  very 
popular  journal  Die  OartmUwhe,  The  drama  still  remains  a 
weak  part  of  German  literature ;  but  there  Is  no  decay  observable 
in  the  department  of  prose-flction.  If  the  year  1870  produced 
little  of  poetry  that  is  worthy  of  notice,  it  is  only  one  ol  many 
proofs  that  the  contest  of  that  time  was  generally  unexpected. 
Consequently,  a  song  of  no  great  merit  had  to  serve  as  the  SUim^ 
Ked  of  the  time,  and  victory  was  celebrated  in  a  series  of  Sonnets 
written  by  OscA|t  von  Rvdwitz,  the  modem  Minnesinger.  One 
of  the  best  poems  of  that  time  was  Freiligrath's  '  Trumpet  at 
Gravelotte '  and  the  worst  was  the  very  notorious  JBjdKhkdied, 
which  has  been  translated  into  all  the  languages  of  modem 
Europe,  as  well  as  into  Greek,  L«atin,  and  Sanskrit.  Its  doggrel 
may,  however,  be  accepted  as  a  joke,  serving  to  relieve  thoughts 
and  feelings  that  were  only  too  earnest.  Some  loud  expressions 
of  triumph  have  naturally  followed  the  contest  of  1370,  and  these 
cannot  excite  either  the  surprise  or  the  anger  of  generous  foes ;  but, 
on  the  whole,  a  few  more  words  written  by  Julian  Schmidt  may 
fairly  express  the  prevalent  temper  of  thoughtful  men  in  Germany: 
'  If  it  is  a  mistake,'  says  the  author,  *  to  suppose  that  we  are  now 
the  dreamers  and  idealists  described  by  Madame  de  Stael :  it  is  a 
still  greater  error  to  suppose  that  we  have  been  dazzled  by  the 
splendour  of  the  military  events  [of  1870],  And  have  become  n 
warlike  people.  We  naturally  rejoiced  in  our  successes  and,  during 
the  war,  numberless  songs  gave  expression  to  ov  joy ;  but  the 
peace  put  an  end  to  that  sort  of  literature,  and  we  have  set  to 
work  in  earnest.  Our  military  enthusiasm  was  always  of  a  de- 
fensive east*- 

lieb  Yaterland,  kannst  nihig  sein ! 
Fest  Bteht  and  tiea  <&e  Wacht  am  Bhdn. 

The  song  here  referred  to—'  Hie  Watch  on  the  Rhine ' — ^was 
accepted  as  national  by  the  German  people  and  their  armies  in 
1870,  and  it  therefore  belongs  to  history.  It  was  written,  in 
1840,  by  Max  SoHznscESNBxmeBB,  and  was  set  to  music  by  WiL- 
HELH.    Another  national  song — 


XXXn.]  THE  TEN  TEAKS  1860-1870.  '    643 

No,  no ! — ^they  sbaD  not  hare  it, 

The  f^  the  German  Khine  ! 

• 

was  wiitten,  in  1640,  by  Nikolaus  Bscsebb,  and  was  set  to  music 
by  more  than  a  hundred  composers  I  One  of  the  best  selections 
from  the  martial  lyrical  poetry  called  forth  so  suddenly  in  1870 
was  entitled  AU-DmUKMand. 

We  may  briefly  refer  to  a  school  of  nhilosophical  lyric  poetry 
represented  by  the  names  Sallbt,  Mbtb,  and  Ullbich,  and  a 
new  school  of  socialistic  yerse-writers,  headed  by  Puttmavit  and 
Dbokke,  may  be  named,  but  only  as  '  a  sign  of  the  times.' 

'We  love  what  is  beautiful/ but  without  vain  excess,  and 
we  study  philosophy  without  forgetting  to  master  reality.  Our 
courage  in  war  does  not  arise  from  any  dulness  in  our  appreciation 
of  the  delights  which  peace  and  culture  afford;  but,  while  we 
know  how  delightful  a  quiet  life  may  be,  we  shrink  not  from  the 
toil  and  the  danger  by  which  peace  must  be  won.'  That  is  the 
purport  of  the  descriptidh  which  Thucydides  gives  of  the  Athe- 
nian people  in  the  age  of  Pericles.  We  trust  that  some  similar 
estimate  of  national  character  may  longremtun  true  with  reference 
to  the  people  of  the  German  Empire.  With  the  expression  of  this 
confidence,  we  close  here  our  brief  review  of  their  imaginative 
literature. 


544  •        OUTLINES  OF  GERSIAIT  LTTEBATUBE.  [Gk. 


GHAPTBB  XTnCTTT. 

U70-1870. 


8PBCTAL  LrrBBATtTBES  : — THB  FHT8ICAL  BCXUTCH— OB0aBAI>ET— 
TOTAGXS  AKP  TBATEL8—  BIOOBAPftT — HIBTOBT^MiLTIOirAX.  BOONOICT 
JUri>  BOCIAI.  SCIBNCB — XDTKIATIOM — FHXLOLOGT,  UTMSLAMY  HISTOftT 
AMD  2B9THBTIC8, 

A  GRBAT  PABT  of  the  strength  and  .the  wealth  of  German 
Literature  lies  in  the  aboye-named  special  departments  which^ 
until  recent  years,  were  hardly  noticed  in  general  literary  history. 
If  any  ten  or  a  dozen  writers  could  be  found  prepared  to  undertake 
such  a  task,  an  extensive  series  of  volumes  would  be  demanded, 
in 'order  to  give  a  fair  account  of  work  done  since  1770  in  the 
Special , Literatures-  above  enumerated.  All  that  can  be  done 
here  is  to  mention,  in  each  department,  two  or  three  books,  in- 
stead of  attempting  to  describei  in  a  few  pages,  the  contents  of 
a  whole  library. 

l%8tco/  Science, — Leaving  unnoticed  -  many  important  works 
on  the  more  abstract  and  mathematical  sciences,  we  find,  in 
Chemistry,  several  works  of  remarkable  merit  which  may  clum  a 
place  in  general  literature  on  account  of  their  popular  and  interest- 
ing style.  JirsTirs  Liebig  has  gained  a  vride  reputation  as  one  of 
the  most  acute  practical  chemists  of  modem  times.  His  work 
on  *  Chemistiy  in  its  Applications  to  Agriculture  and  Physiology/ 
and  his  '  Letters  on  Chemistry/  have  been  widely  circulated,  and 
have  already  produced  important  practical  results.  Against  some 
of  his  theories  of  physiological  processes  objections  have  been 
raised,  especially  in  an  '  Essay  on  Physiological  Chemistry,'  by 
G.  J.  Mttlsbb,  a  Dutch  chemist.  It  is  allowed  that  Liebig  has 
thrown  light  on  the  support  of  vital  warmth  by  carbonised  diet ; 
but,^n  the  other  side,  it  is  maintained  that  the  animal  tysteza 


XXXIII.]  PHYSICAL  SCIENCE.  545 

taodifies  or  suspends  the  processes  of  chemistry,  djb  chemistry 
modi  ties  the  operation  of  mechanical  laws.  Bur.  all  this  has  hecn 
said,  in  effect,  by  Liebig  himself.  The  gi*eat  practical  chemist  is  no 
believer  in  materialism. 

lu  the  department  of  Physiology  Burdich  and  the  brothers 
Tbevibai^us  should  be  named  among  the  older  writers,  and  the 
names  of  Carus,  Virchow,  and  Schleiden  may  be  mentioned  to 
indicate  tbe  progress  made  by  recent  researches.  Schodler*8 
'  Book  of  Nature '  may  be  commended  as  one  of  the  most  popular 
of  general  introductions  to  the  physical  sciences.  The  *  Physio- 
logical Letters  for  General  Readers '  (1845),  by  Earl  Voax,  may 
be  commended  as  popular  and  interesting. 

Geography, — We  can  only  name,  without  attempting  to  de- 
scribe, such  a  work  of  research  as  Karl  Hitter's  '  Geography 
in  its  Relation  with  Nature  and  with  the  History  of  Mankind.' 
As  a  more  compendious  work,  Kloden's  '  Handbook  of  Geography ' 
may  be  named  here,  and  a  few  of  the  more  popularly  i^tten 
accounts  of  Voyages  and  Travels  may  be  noticed,  to  indicate  the 
wealth  of  German  literatiure  in  this  department. 

Carsten  Niebvhr,  the  father  of  the  historian  of  Rome,  dis- 
played ns  a  traveller  the  enterprising  spirit  which  his  son  devoted 
to  historical  investigations.  He  published  an  interesting  nar- 
rative of  his  *  Travels  in  Arabia  and  the  Surrounding  Countries ' 
(1774-8),  and  later  researches  in  the  same  districts  have  confirmed 
his  statements.  George  Forsteb  (1754-94)  accompanied  his 
father  in  Cook's  voyage  round  the  world.  He  afterwards  resided 
in  Paris,  and  was  involved  in  the  events  of  the  French  Revolution. 
His  work,  entitled  'Views  in  Holland,  England,  and  France' 
(1792),  still  retains  its  interest,  chiefly  on  account  of  its  style 
and  its  notices  of  works  of  art. 

Powers  of  mind  that  are  rarely  united  in  one  individual  meet  in 
the  character  of  Alexander  vok  Humboldt,  bom  in  1769 — an 
enterprising  traveller,  a  man  of  extensive  science,  and  a  poetic 
writer.  In  1799,  accompanied  by  his  friend  Bonpland,  he  left 
Europe  to  visit  the  Spanish  colonies  in  South  America.  After 
^y^  years  of  adventurous  researches  among  the  wonders  of  nature, 
he  returned  to  Europe  in  1804,  and  prepared  for  the  press  the 
interesting  results  of  his  travels.  His  '  Aspects  of  Nature '  were 
published  in  1808, '  Picturesque  Views  of  the  Cordilleras  *  in  1810, 
end  'T^avelf*  in  the  Equinoctial  Regions  of  America'  in  1815. 

S  IT 


546  OUTLINES  OP  GERMAN  UTERATtJEE.  [Ch. 

This  veteran  student  of  nature  producedi  in  advanced  age,  his 
remarkable  work, '  Eosmos '  (1846-1^);  containing  the  results  of  a 
long  life  of  observation  and  contemplation.  In  the  first  part  it 
gives  general  views  of  the  economy  of  nature ;  while  in  the 
second  part  we  find  speculations  regarding  the  influence  of  nature 
on  human  society  in  its  various  stages  of  culture.  In  one  passage 
the  author  suggests  that,  '  if  spacious  panoramic  buildings,  con* 
taining  a  series  of  landscapes  from  various  regioniT  of  the  earth, 
aud  various  points  of  elevation,  were  erected  in  our  cities,  aud, 
like  our  museums  and  galleries  of  paintings,  thrown  freely  open  to 
the  people,  it  would  be  a  powerful  means  of  making  the  sublime 
grandeur  of  creation  more  widely  known  and  felt'  Humboldt's 
writings  combine  the  investigations  of  a  scientific  mind  vtrith  the 
style  of  a  poetical  imagination.  Instead  of  attempting  to  give  in 
our  scanty  limits  aoy  general  estimate  of  such  a  man  ai^  Alexander 
VON  Htjmboldt,  we  may  refer  to  his  biography  produced  by  the 
combined  labour  of  ten  scientific  authors,  and  edited  by  Karl 
Bruhns.    It  was  published  in  1872. 

Philipp  Mabtivs  (bom  in  1794),  a  writer  on  the  scenery  of 
South  America,  was  associated  with  a  friend,  Johann  von  Spix, 
in  the  researches  of  which  he  gave  the  results  in  his  'Travels  in 
Brazil '  (182^-8).  The  scientific  contents  of  the  work  are  valu- 
able, and  its  graphic  descriptions  of  life  in  the  vast  forest-districts 
of  Brazil  make  it  worthy  of  being  compared  with  Humboldt's 
impressive  n&rration  of  bis  voyages  on  the  Orinoco  and  its  tri- 
butary the  Apure.  Several  other  works  by  travellers  in  South 
America  contain  valuable  contributions  to  science.  The  '  Travels 
in  Paraguay  in  the  Years  1818-26,  by  J.  R.  Rengoeb,  published 
in  1836,  give  details  on  the  zoology  and  botany,  and  also  on  the 
features  of  human  society  in  that  part  of  the  New  World.  Other 
works  on  Paraguay  contain  instructive  accoimts  of  the  temporary 
success  and  the  iQtimate  failure  of  the  missions  established  among 
the  Indians  by  the  Jesuits.  The  '  Travels  in  Chili  and  Peru/ 
and  a  '  Voyage  on  the  River  Amazon  in  the  Tears  1827-32,'  by 
Ebuaiu)  PoppTGh,  published  in  1836,  are  chiefly  devoted  to  studies 
of  natural  science ;  but  contain  also  observations  on  the  popula- 
tions of  the  countries  described.  'Travels  in  Peru,'  by  J.  J. 
TscHuni,  describe  the  adventures  of  some  years  of  researches  in 
the  reg7on  of  the  silver  mines  (where  material  wealth  and  human 
misery  are  found  together),  on  the  sides  of  the  Andes  mountains^ 


XXXIII.]  VOYAGES  AND  TRAVELS.  547 

in  the  beautiful  vallej9  of  Peru,  and  in  its  primeval  forests.  The 
yarious  descendants  of  Spaniards  and  Indians  are  well  described ; 
and  the  work  may  be  commended  as  a  conscientious  and  interesting, 
production.  Similar  praise  may  be  bestowed  on  '  A  Description  of 
the  Republic  of  Mexico'  (1844),  by  Eouabd  MtrHLBNPFOHDT, 
though  the  arrangement  of  this  work  in  the  style  of  a  treatise 
destroys  narrative  interest  It  gives  the  results  of  seven  years 
of  careful  observations  on  the  geography,  the  natural  resources,  - 
and  other  statistioB  of  a  very  interesting  but  badly  governed 
country. 

The  African  explorations  and  researches  of  Birth  and  Kbapf, 
and  the  work  by  Fbitsoh  on  the  Ethnology  of  South  Africa  must 
be  named.  '  Travels  in  Kordofan/  by  Ignatits  Pallmb,  contain 
contributions  to  our  Jmowledge  of  interior  Africa,  and  suggest  a 
northern  route  of  exploration,  from  Egypt  through  Kordofan  and 
Darfdr.  Another  African  traveller,  Heinrigh  Lichtbnstbik, 
in  his  '  Travels  in  Southern  AMca  in  the  Tears  1803-6,'  gives 
valuable  notices  of  natural  history.  'Travels  in  Abyssinia,'  by 
Edvarj)  Ruppell  (18d&-40),  and  '  Travels  in  Algiers,'  by  Mobitz 
Waonbr  (1841 ),  may  be  named. 

Ajb  indications  of  the  studies  bestowed  on  the  natural  history, 
the  ethnology,  the  languages,  and  the  mythology  of  India;,  we  can 
mention  only  the  'Indian  Antiquities,'  by  0.  Lassbn  (1845), 
the  work  of  Kabl  von  HireBL  on  '  Cashmere  and  the  Country  of 
the  Sikhs '  (1840-3),  and  <  Travels  in  the  East  Indies,'  by  Leo- 
pold VOK  Obuoh  (1846). 

The  travels  of  Adolv  Bastzan  in  Eastern  Asia  may  be 
referred  to  for  information  respecting  Bouddhism.  '  Fragments 
from  the  East,'  by  Jakob  Philipp  Falucbbatbe,  may  be  com* 
mended  for  their  excellent  style  and  pleasant  humour.  One  of 
the  author's  historical  works — ^his  'History  of  the  Peninsula 
Morea  during  the  Middle  Ages ' — ^has  attracted  attention  not  only 
by  a  clear  style,  but  also  by  its  argument  to  the  effect  that  the 
modem  Greeks  belong  to  the  Slavonic  peoples,  and  are  not  de-  « 
scendants  from  the  ancient  Hellenes.  The  letters  from  Greece 
and  Turkey  (1824-5)  by  Pbokesoh-Osten.  have  been  highly  com- 
mended. 

Biography. — In  this  department  Vabkhagbn  von  Eksb  (1786- 
1858)  deserves  to  be  6rst  named  among  modem  German  writerSi 

BZI2 


648  OUTLINES  OF  aERMAN  LITERATURE.  [C«. 

His  biographical  works  indade  memoirs  of  several  military  heroes 
— -Derfflinger^Bliicher,  Seydlitz,  Winterfeldt^^cfawerin,  and  others 
—and  of  poets  and  other  literary  men.  The  author's  Memo^ 
rabiUa,  his  diaries,  and  other  writings  and  collections  which 
were  published  after  his  decease,  contain  interesting  contri- 
butions to  the  political,  social,  and  literary  history  of  his  times. 
His  wife,  Kahel,  by  birth  an  Israelite,  was  eminent  as  one  of 
the  most  patriotic  and  benevolent  of  the  Prussian  women  who 
gave  aid  to  their  country  in  1808-18.  She  wrote  in  a  meditative 
and  aphoristic  style,  and  for  her  own  solace — not  for  fame.  Her 
friends,  who  admired  her  high  personal  qualities,  have  erroneouslj 
ascribed  to  her  aphoristic  writings  the  attractions  that  really  be- 
longed to  her  own  character. 

Georg  HEnmiCH  Psrtz,  the  writer  of  interesting  memoirs  of 
the  great  minister  Vom  Stein,  and  of  a  life  of  the  brave  Prussian 
general  Gneisenau,  should  at  least  be  named  here,  and  a  bio- 
graphy of  the  patriotic  bookseller  Pebthes  must  be  especially 
commended.  Hbiitbich  Dobing's  biographies  of  Klopstock, 
Vo98,  Richtor,  Herder,  and  other  literary  men  ;  the  ^  Life 
of  Schiller '  (1840),  by  GrsTAV  Schwab  ;  Caboline  Pichler's 
'  Autobiography,'  and  the  '  Memoirs '  of  Johanna  Schopenhauer 
may  be  mentioned  here.  The  'Autobiography'  of  Heinrick 
Zschoxeb,  the  philanthropic  author,  contains  many  interesting 
passages.  Among  memoirs  of  literary  men  may.be  mentioned  a 
<Life  of  Leibnitz  *  (1842),  by  G.  E.  Guhrauee  ;  the  *  Life  of  the 
Philosopher  Johann  Gottlieb  Fichte,'  by  his  son;  'Jean  Paul 
Richters  Memoirs  and  Correspondence '  (1827-33) ;  and  the 
'  Autobiography  *  of  Heinrich  StefTens,  the  novelist. 

Several  works  contain  contributions  to  ecclesiaotical  history 
in  the  form  of  biography.  Neandeb  has  written  'Memoirs  of 
St  Bernard  and  his  Times ; '  and  Matebhoff's  '  Life  and 
Times  of  Johann  Reuchlin  'is  another  work  of  the  same  character. 
The  '  life  of  Luther,'  by  Gxjstav  Pfizer,  may  be  noticed  here. 
A  '  Memoir  of  Prince  Bismarck '  by  G.  Hesekiel,  may  be  referred 
to  as  having  guned  some  popularity. 

History. — If  we  attempted  to  give  any  fair  account  of  the  re- 
sults of  German  erudition  and  labour  in  the  vast  field  of  his- 
tory, our  work  must  be  extended  to  mnny  volumes.  We  can 
here  mention  hardly  more  than  the  names  of  a  few  writers. 
JoHAmr  MuLLER  (1752-1809),  a  native  of  Switzerland,  displayed 


XXXin.]  HISTOKY.  549 

extensive  erudition  in  bis  '  Lectures  on  Uniyersal  History/  de* 
livered  at  Geneva  in  1700,  and  published  in  1810.  During  the 
French  invasion,  Miiller  wrote  eloquent  Philippics  against  France ; 
but  his  conduct  ezdted  a  general  wonder,  when,  in  1807,  he 
accepted^a  ministerial  office  under  Napoleon.  It  is  only  fair  tr 
add  that  his  repentance  was  speedy  and  bitter.  He  soon  resigned 
his  place,  and  passed  the  short  remainder  of  his  life  in  dejection i 
Karl  Rotteck:  (1775-1840)  wrote  a  *  Universal  History,'  in  six 
volumes  (1812-18),  which  was  extended  to  the  year  1840  by 
K  H.  Hebmes.  a  /History  of  the  World,'  by  K  F.  Beckeb 
(1842),  may  be  commended  as  one  of  the  best  books  of  its  kind,  and 
K.  W.  Bottigeb's  *  History  of  the  World  in  Biographical  Narra- 
tives '  (1830-44)  may  be  mentioned  as  a  work  of  considerable 
interest.  Heinbioh  Dittmab's  work  on  the  same  subject  has  an 
especial  reference  to  the  progress  of  Christianity;  while  a  com- 
pendium by  Kabl  Vehse  desciibes  chiefly  the  progress' of  civili- 
sation and  intellectual  culture.  The  writings  of  Btjnsek — espe- 
cially the  treatises  '  God  in  History '  and  '  Egypt's  Position  in  the 
History  of  the  World ' — ^may  be  named  as  important.  A  *  History 
of  the  People  of  Israel '  by  Hbutbich  Ewald  is  the  work  of  oQe 
of  the  greatest  of  Orientalists. 

Among  other  works  on  general  ancient  history,  Fbibdbich 
Schlosser's  '  History  of  the  Ancient  World  and  its  Culture ' 
(1826^*^)  must  hold  a  prominent  position.  This  learned  his- 
torian has  corrected  the  arbitrary  style  of  confining  history'  to 
descriptions  of  military  and  political  movements,  and  has  paid 
great  attention  to  the  literature  and  culture  of  ancient  times. 
Another  work  of  comprehensive  design  is  a  '  History  of  Civili- 
sation and  Culture'  (1843-5),  by  Gustavits  Kleihc  A  'His- 
tory of  European  Civilisation '  (1833),  by  Johanit  Schon,  is  a^ 
work  of  moderate  outlines  well  filled  up.  A  '  History  of  Trade 
and  Agriculture '  (1842-5),  by  GTrSTAY  Guligh,  may  be  named 
as  an  extensive' work;  while  a  more  concise  book  on  the  same 
subject,  by  Wilhblk  Hoffkakk,  may  be  commended  to  general 
readers.  WiXHEi:.ic  Wachsmuth  has  written  a  *  History  of 
European  Morals  and  Manners '  (in  five  volumes — 1831-0).  Ab- 
NOLD  Heebek  (1760-1842)  opened  a  new  view  of  ancient  history 
in  his  learned  work  on  the  '  Commercial  Belations  of  Antiquity ' 
(1703-1805).  The  extensive  collection  of '  Histories  of  the  States 
of  Europe/  edited  by  Heeren  and  XJkert,  may  be  named  here.     . 


650  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ch. 

Tiuoing  to  the  hifitories  of  particular  nations — the  '  History  of 
Greece'  hy  Cttbhtts  must  be  mentioned  as  a  superior  work. 
WiLHiucSoHORN^s  'History  of  Greece'  (1833)  extends  from  the 
iEtolian  and  Achaian  Treaty  to  the  Fall  of  Corinth ;  Eabl  Lach- 
uaits'b  work  (1839)  describes  the  events  between  the  close  of  the 
Peloponnesian  War  and  the  era  of  Alexander  the  Great,  and 
JoHAim  DBOTBEir  has  written  the  life  of  Alexander. 

In  Roman  history,  Babthold  Niebtjhb,  bom  at  Copenhagen 
in  1776|  was  the  founder  of  a  new  school  of  research^  by  which 
fictions  mingled  with  the  early  histoiy  of  Bome  were  ex- 
ploded. Niebuhr  made  great  preparations  for  his  work,  and 
took  good  care  not  to  dissipate  his  powers  by  appearing  too  soon 
as  an  author.  During  his  youth  he  visited  London  and  Edin- 
burgh. In  the  latter  city  he  waa  acquainted  with  the  Scott 
family,  and  in  one  of  his  letters  he  mentioned,  with  an  expression 
of  pity,  ^  the  eldest  son,  dull  in  appearance  and  intellect'  This 
'  dull  boy '  was  afterwards  the  celebrated  Sib  Waltxb  Scott. 
Niebuhr  was  employed  in  several  political  offices  until  1823, 
when  he  retired  to  Bonn,  and  devoted  himself  to  the  task  of 
arranging  the  copious  materials  of  his  Boman  history.  The 
French  Bevolution  of  July  1830  had  such  an  effect  on  the  mind 
of  Niebuhr,  that  it  hastened  his  death,  which  took  place  at  Bonn, 
January  2, 1831. 

WiLHELM  Dbumask  produced  a  'History  of  Bonje  in*  its 
Transition  from  a  Bepublican  to  a  Monarchical  Government' 
(1834-44),  contiuning  the  results  of  very  extensive  reading,  and 
describing  especially  the  degeneracy  of  the  Bomans  during  the 
times  of  Pompey,  Ccesar,  and  Cicero.  By  a  careful  examination 
of  the  letters  and  other  writings  of  Tully,  Drumann  represented 
the  character  of  the  great  orator  in  an  unfavourable  light,  and 
professed  to  have  convicted  him  of  certain  ^Isehoods.  Drumann 
urged  his  arguments  against  Cicero  as  zealously  as  if  he,  the 
historian,  had  personally  suffered  by  the  said  falsehoods.  Fbied- 
BiCH  Kobtum'b  '  Boman  History '  (1843)  is  written  in  a  clearer 
style ;  while  the  work  of  P.  Kobbe  on  the  same  subject  is  re- 
markable for  the  boldness  with  which  it  attacks  some  of  the  posi- 
tions of  Niebuhr.  *  A  'Boman  History'  by  Wilhblx  Ihite  is 
popularly  written.  Schwbolbb'b  *  Early  Boman  History '  is  un- 
fortunately a  fragment  Of  the  erudition  and  other  merits  of 
such  a  work  as  the  *  Boman  History '  by  Thsodob  MoxKSBir 


X«Xm.]  HISTORY.  Col 

(bora  in  1817)  we  can  say  only,  tliat  they  are  generally  admitted 
by  critics  whoee  own  learning  is  considerable.  The  writer's 
knowledge  of  Roman  laws,  inscriptions,  and  other  antiquities  is 
most  extensive,'  and  the  results  of  his  diligent  researches  are  giyen 
in  a  lively,  modernising  style  that  makes  them  attractive.  His 
character  of  Julius  Cffisar  may  be*  referred  to  as  -an  example  of 
his  skill  in  giving  antique  traits  in  a  modern  style.  Mommsen  is 
not  a  purist  in  writing  German.  In  leaving  the  extensive  but 
well-filled  department  of  ancient  history,  we  must  not  forget  to 
name,  as  one  of  the  most  readable  books  on  the  subject,  'A His- 
tory of  Antiquity  '.by  Max  Dunokeb. 

Medisdval  Histozy.  may  be  represented  by  the  great  work 
Mqmumifnta  QermanvcB  ^iitorica,  edited  by  G,  H.  Pebtz.  A 
'  Manual  of  the  History  of  the  Middle  Ages,'  by  Hsikbich  Lbo, 
deserves  high  praise  in  this  department  Leo  has  also  written 
a  *  History  of  the  Italian  Cities '  (1839),  and  other  historical 
work&  His  earlier  writings  betrayed  a  tendexicy  to  extreme 
scepticism,  but  this  was  corrected  in  his  later  productions.  Fbied- 
BICH  KoBTiJM's  'History  of  the  Middle  Ages'  (18d6)  ib  dis- 
tinguished by  notices  of  the  development  of  civil  liberty.  The 
work  of  Friedbich  Rehm  on  the  same  subject,  published  between 
1820  and  1839,  may  be  viewed  as  a  magazine  of  raw.  materials, 
and  the  same  criticism  may  be  applied  to  HirLLMAirn's  *  Cities  of 
the  Middle  Ages '  (1826-9),  though  this  work  opens  some  new 
views,  and  is  full  of  Information.  '  A  History  of  the  Crusades,' 
by  Fbiedbich  Wileen,  which  was  published  between  1808  and 
1882,  may  be  described  as  one  of  the  great  magazines  of  historical 
facts,  which  may  be  advantageously  consulted  by  scholars,  while 
it  does  not  deserve  a  place  among  well-written  books. 

The  historical  writings  of  Leopold  Rakee  pie  remarkable  for 
both  their  intrinsic  value  and  their  artistic  construction.  *  The 
Histoiy  of  the  Papacy  in  the  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Cen- 
turies '  (1884)  is  generally  esteemed  as  an  excellent  work ;  but 
Roman  Catholic  critics  have  raised  objections  against  some  of  its 
statements.  Fbiedbich  RAtncEB,  born  in  1781,  was  an  accom- 
plished historian,  and  wrote  in  an  interesting  style.  His  '  His- 
tory of  Europe  from  the  Close  of  the  Fifteenth  Century '  is  marked 
by  the  conciliatory  style  in  which  it  describes  the  contentions 
of  various  religious  and  political  parties.  A  '  History  of  the 
Hohenstaufen  Dynasty'  (1824),  by  the  same  writer,  deserves 


552     OUTLINES  OF  GEKMAN  LITEEATURE.     [(Si. 

• 

praise  for  its  interesting  narratiTe  of  the  events  of  a  romantic 
period.  Another  valuable  contribution  to  mediaeval  history  is 
found  in  the  Oeschichte  der  deutschen  Kaisei'zeit  (a  'History  of 
the  German  Imperial  Time'),  by  Wilhelm  tok  GissEnRECSX. 
The  works  of  the  learned  Orientalist  Joseph  von  Hahuer-Purg- 
STALL,  bom  in  1774,  are  valuable,  as  they  give  the  i*e8ults  of  exten- 
sive reading  of  Oriental  manuscripts.  The '  History  of  the  Caliphs/ 
and  a  '  Life  of  Mohammed,'  by  G.  Weil,  may  abo  be  mentioned 
with  commendation  as  works  of  original  research. 

A  'History  of  Friedrich  IV.  and  his  son  Maximilian,'  by 
Joseph  Chmel  (1840),  ELaoen's  '  Spirit  of  -the  Eeformation ' 
(1841-4),  and  the  writings  of  Oechsle,  Bensen,  and  Zimxer- 
HANK,  on  the '  Peasants'  War,'  supply  useful  addition?  to  our  know- 
ledge of  movements  connected  with  the  Reformation.  'The 
History  of  Austria*  (1834-42),  by  Johann  von  Mailath,  is 
characterised  by  Austrian  and  Roman  Catholic  tendencies  in 
politics  and  religion.  A  'History  of  Pope  Innocent  III.  and  his 
Contemporaries,*  written  by  FBiEORrcH  von  Htjrtbr,  an  Ultra- 
montane Catholic,  is  generally  accepted  as  a  work  of  high  merits, 
though  Protestants  have  questioned  the  author's  impartiality.  For 
accounts  of  modem  Prussia,  we  must  again  refer  to  the  writings 
of  Friedrich  Schlossee,  especially  to  his  'History  of  the 
Eighteenth  and  Niiieteenth  Centuries.'  As  a  specimen  of  the 
fairness  and  caution  of  this  historian,  we  may  refer  to  his  summary 
of  the  character  of  Frederick  William  I.  of  Prussia.  Wachsmfth, 
Sfittler,  Heeren,  Schlossee,  Gagern,  and  Hatjsser  may  be 
mentioned  among  the  best  writers  on  the  period  extending  from 
the  Reformation  to  our  times.  Spittler's  *  History  of  European 
States'  (third  edition,  1823)  deserves  especial  notice  as  aupeful 
work.  A  *  History  of  the  German  People '  (1825),  by  Wolfgang 
Menzel,  is  one  of  the  most  readable  books  on  the  subject  It 
has  been  correctly  said  that '  Menzel  writes  like  an  Englishman.' 
A  '  History  of  the  German  People,'  by  Friedrich  Kohlratjsch, 
has  passed  through  several  editions,  and  may  be  described  as 
suitable  to  young  readers.  Johann  von  Archenholtz  (1745- 
1812),  a  military  man,  who  was  engaged  in  the  '  Seven  Years' 
War,'  wrote  a  history  of  that  struggle,  which  was  published  in 
1788,  and  was  remarkably  successful.  Among  other  works  on 
special  periods  in  German  history  a  'History  of  the  Germau 
War  of.  Liberation/  by  Heinrich  L.  BeiizsE;  must  not  be  for* 


XXXni.]     POLITICS  AND  NATIONAL  ECONOMY.  653 

gotteiL  The  author,  a  major  in  the  Prossian  army,  died,  deeply 
lamented,  in  1867.  His  book  is  written  in  a  thoroughly  popular 
tone.  The  unstudied  but  eloquent  pnssage,  giving  an  account 
of  the  rising  of  the  people,  and  beginning  witli  Komer's  words — 
'The  People  rose,  the  Storm  broke  loose  I ' — can  hardly xuow  be 

^  read  without  martial  enthusiasm. 

The  works  of  Patjli,  Lappexberg,  and  Dahlhann,  on  English 
History,  Fisohel's work  on  'The British  Constitution,'  a  'History 
of  the  Last  Twenty-Five  Years'  (1816-40)  by  Kabl  H.  Hermes, 
and  a  work  of  which  the  outlines  are  exceedingly  "wide — 
Grundsteine  einer  AUgemeinen  CuUxtrgesahichte  der  Neuexten  Zeit, 
Ton  J.  J.  HoNEGGSB — ^may  be  mentioned.  The  last-named  work 
is  intended  to  give  a  ground-plan  for  a  history  of  modem  culture 
from  the  time  of  Napoleon  I.  to  the  present,  and  the  author's  plan 
includes  reviews  of  politics,  social  •movements,  technical  and 
scientific  progress,  developments  of  new  systems  of  philosophy, 
critical  notices  of  productions  of  art  in  painting,  sculpture,  and 
music,  and  reviews  of  German,  French,  English,  and  Italian 
Literature.  When  these  outlines  have  to  be  filled  up,  Briareua 
might  be  engaged  as  editor.  Rittbe's  *  History  of  Philosophy,' 
SxocKx's  '  History  of  Mediaeval  Philosophy,'  and  the  contributions 
of  Kabl  Michelet  and  Kuno  Fischer  to  the  history  of  modern 
systems  of  philosophy  must  be  named  as  important  works. 

Poiitics  and  National  Economy. — Among  important  political  and 
statistical  works  may  be  noticed: — The  'Political  Cyclopiedia* 
(1840 — ),  edited  by  Karl  yow  Rotteck  and  Theodob  Welcker; 
the  '  German  Political  and  Legal  History,'  by  Karl  Fribdricu 
EiCHORir,  which  was  first  published  in- 1808 ;  the  '  Results  of  the 
History  of  Morals,'  by  11.  L.  voK  Gagebh  (1836-7),  which 
contains  comparative  estimates  of  the  influences  of  monarchy, 
aristocracy,  and  democracy.  The  '  Rights  of  the  German  People,' 
by  WiBTH,may  be  noticed  as  a  declaration  of  republican  principles, 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  the  'Seventeen  Parliamentary  Speeches,' 
by  Julius  Stahl,  may  fairly  represent  the  views  of  a  Prussian 
Conservative.  The  '  History  of  Jjegislation  and  Politics  from  the 
Sixteenth  Century  to  the  Present,'  by  JoHAir;^  Caspar  Bluv tschli, 
the  'Studies  of  Culture  in  Three  Centuries,'  by  Wilhelic  H. 
RiEHL,  and  Hbti^rich  yok  Stbbl'b  '  History  of  the  Revolutionary 

.  Time  1789-95,'  belong  to  the  class  of  important  recent  historical 
writings.    The^  last-named  work  throws  a  new  light  on  the 


554  OUTLINES  OF  GEBMAN  UTERATUEE.  [Ch. 

French  llevolution.  Another  important  work  connected  with  that 
catastrophe  is  Stein's  'Socialism  and  Commuidsm  in  France.' 

The  works  of  Roscher  and  SchXffle  should  be  named  as  yalii- 
able  contributions  to  the  science  of  national  economy.  In  this  class 
of  books  the  crude  theory  of  Lajssalle  and  the  sober,  economic 
plans  of  Schulze-Delitzsch  may  be  briefly  noticed^  and  the. 
book  on  *  Capital '  by  Kabl  Marx,  the  leader  of  the  extreme 
German  Socialists^  may  be  named.  It  may  be  stated,  that 
several  works,  lately  published  show  a  want  of  faith  in  Adam 
Smith's  old  theory,  and  also  a  contempt  of  the  optimistic  doc- 
trines preached  by  that  hopeful  American  author,  Henry  Caroy. 

The  persevering  efforts  of  Schulze-Delitzsch  to  develops  in 
several  parts  of  Germany  the  advantages  of  association,  have 
proved  beneficial  rather  to  the  lower  middle  than  to  the  working 
classes.  'Let  us  have  unrestricted  competition  in  buying  and 
selling  commodities/  aaxd  Schulze, '  and  with  the  aid  of  people's 
banks  to  help  the  poor  to  obtain  credit  and  extend  their  industry, 
the  whole  problem  of  the  best  possible  national  economy  will  be 
solved.'  This  was  his  doctrine.  To  exhibit  it  in  pi-actice,  he 
assisted  greatly  in  foundinig  people's  banks,  or  mutual  loan 
societies.  Their  success  was  considerable.  The  opponents  of 
Schulze  do  not  call  in  question  the  good  effect  of  his  measures, 
but  rather  the  doctrine  implied  in  his  writings,  that  such  measures 
are  sufllcient  His  societies  for  the  aid  of  small  capitalists,  it  is 
said,  can  afford  no  very  important  or  permanent  relief,  while  the 
main  tendency  of  our  times  is  to  reduce  this  class  to  the  level  of 
the  working  classes.  Fbbdinand  Lassalls,  the  chief  of  the 
opponents  referred  to,  founded,  in  1863,  a  'Universal  German 
Workmen's  Union.'  His  plans  were  both  political  and  industrial. 
.He  would  give  universal  suffrage  to  the  people  to  enable  the 
working^;]  asses  to  carry  his  scheme  into  effect,  and  then  would 
institute  productive  co-operative  societies  which  '  should  be  sup- 
ported and  warranted  by  the  State.'  The  formidable  objections 
to  such  a  plan  are  obvious.  The  State  guarantee,  if  it  could  be 
panted,  must  deprive  the  institution  of  the  essential  conditions  of 
success — ^self-help  and  responsibility — and,  moreover,  the  State 
would  be  unable  to  provide  the  enormous  capital  required  by  such 
undertakings. 

One  of  the  earliest  experiments  in  productive  co-operalion  waa 
made  by  Johakk  IIbikbich  von  THtJirEir  on  his  ^tate  at  Tellow, 


XXXTTT.]  NATIONAL  ECONOMY.  555 

in  Mecklenburg,  in  1848.  He  was  a  member  of  an  old  aristo- 
cratic fjEimily,  and  was  distinguished  both  for  noble  personal 
characteristics  and  for  his  plans  for  the  elevation  of  the  lower 
classes.  In  his  native  State  the  common  rule  prevailed  of  paying 
to  the  agricultural  labourer  no  more  than  the  traditional  wages 
judged  necessary  for  his  bare  maintenance.  Von  Thiinen  argued 
that  this  tended  to  make  the  peasant  work  with  the  temper  of  a 
serf,  iadifferent  to  the  general  welfare  of  the  estate.  *  Better/ 
said  he, '  to  pay  higher  wages  for  superior  labour ;  to  make  the 
labourer's  earnings  rise  in  something  like  the  ratio  of  interest  on 
capital,  and  so  to  unite  the  interests  of  the  employer  and  the 
employed.  Yon  Thiinen  tried  his  own  plan  on  his  own  estate 
before  he  recommended  it  to  other  landlords,  and  the  results 
were  satis&ctory  in  a  moral  as  well  as  in  an  economical  point  of 
view. 

As  one  among  several  books  recently  published  on  the  relations 
of  capital  and  labour,  we  may  name  a  history  of  'Workmen's 
Guilds,'  written  by  Lujo  Brsntako,  who  has  studied  the  his- 
tory of  English  trade-unions.  He  writes  without  respect  of 
the  economic  doctrines  of  Adam  Smith's  school,  which  he  calls 
'  abstract,'  while  he  speaks  of  his  own  doctrine  as  '  realistic'  He 
leaves  unnoticed  hardly  any  part  of  the  policy  of  trade-unions. 
Without  such  coalitions,  he  maintains  that  workmen  could  not 
have  gained  the  power  of  waiting  for  any  rise  in  the  market,  and 
therefore  the  union  may  be  defended  on  economic  grounds. 
Adam  Smith,  it  is  said,  wrote  theoretically,  and  on  the  supposition 
that  working  men  were  all  equal,  all  clever,  and  all  Scotchmen. 
To  pass  over  many  other  poiuts  on  which  Br.  Brentano  differs 
firom  *  abstract '  economists,  he  opposes,  not  only  the  old,  but  also 
what  he  calls  the  new  wages'  fund  theory,  and  he  asserts  that 
wages  have  been  raised  by  unions  and  strikes,  without  the  results 
foreboded  by  economists,  and  also  without  driving  trade  abroad. 

In  the  section  of  his  treatise  given  to  a  notice  of  Malthusian 
doctrine,  Br.  Brentano  argues  that  if  that  doctrine  is  ever  to  be 
generally  accepted,  it  must  be  by  the  members  of  unions  or  soci&* 
ties  maintained  for  promoting  the  welfare  of  the  working  classes. 

Education, — To  tell  all  the  story  of  modern  improvements 
made  in  the  education  of  the  people  of  Prussia  and  other  States 
of  the  Empire,  would  demand  that  we  should  travel  back  as  far  as 
the  times  of  Herder,  Basedow,  and  PestalozzL    '  Youth,  be  warned 


656  OUTLINES  OF  GEKMAN  UTEEATURE.  [Ch. 

and  instructed  by  our  errors  I  The  times  in  which  you  will 
probably  live  will  require  something  more  than  merely  nominal 
learning.  Men  will  be  wanted ;  men  of  true  insight  and  sound 
understanding ;  scholars  acquainted  not  only  with  books,  but  also 
with  nature,  the  world,  and  the  circumstances  and  necessities  of 
society.  The  days  when  Virgilian  pastorals  or  Anacreontic  odes 
were  accepted  as  proofs  of  consummate  education  have  passed 
away.*  .  .  .  That  warning  and  prophecy  was,  long  ago,  written 
by  Ilerder,  and  the  advice  which  he  gave  to  the  young  men 
living  in  his  own  times  is  now  generally  appreciated. 

In  Germany,  formerly  regarded  as  the  home  of  abstruse  studies, 
several  modem  writers  have  zealously  contended  in  favour  of  a 
practical  education  with  regard  to  the  circumstances  of  actual 
life.  JoHANN  Heinrich  Pestalozzi  (1746-1827)  applied  to  the 
education  of  the  poor  the  principles  found  in  our  quotation  from 
Herder,  llie  writings  of  Rousseau  first  directed  the  attention  of 
Pestalozzi  to  the  necessity  of  an  improved  method  .of  education. 
He  did  not  rest  long  in  theories,  but  proceeded  to  make  an 
experiment  in  education,  by  taking  the  children  of  vagrants  into 
his  house.  The  results  of  the  physical  and  mental  discipline 
exercised  on  these  unpromising  pupils  were  so  far  encouraging, 
that  Pestalozzi  extended  his  educational  institution  in  1781 ;  but 
the  failure  of  his  funds  compelled  him  to  abandon  it  in  1797. 
His  chief  maxim  was,  that  a  true  education  must  include  a 
training  of  the  physical  as  well  as  the  mental  and  moral  powers, 
with  a  constant  reference  to  the  real  circumstances  of  life.  He 
says,  with  especial  regard  to  the  training  of  the  children  of  the 
poor : — *  These  children  have  no  earthly  possessions.  Their  own 
faculties  of  body  and  mind  are  their  sole  property,  and  the  only 
support  of  their  future  existence  and  welfare.  These  powers, 
therefore,  should  be  well  developed.  Our  pupils  must  be  trained 
in  early  life  to  find  delight  in  the  exercise  of  those  faculties  on 
which  their  own  welfare  and  that  of  society  depends.  Word- 
knowledge  has  no  value  for  them,  unless  it  is  united  vrith  their 
duties  and  interests.  The  cultivation  of  the  mind,  therefore, 
must  not  withdraw  attention  from  bodily  labour.  The  heart 
must  be  trained  to  acquiesce  in  the  necessities  of  real  life,  and  to 
in:»pire  the  labour  of  the  hands  vnth  noble  motives.  Discipline, 
study,  and  manu&l  industry  must  be  united.' 

Pestalozzi  was  not  a  good,  practical  schoolmaster;  bat  his 


XXXm.]  EDUCATION.  567 

name  muBt  be  always  mentioned  with  respect,  if  only  for  his  ona 
gr$at  principle — that  education  should  include  far  more  than  the 
culture  of  the  intellect 

Soon  after  the  decease  of  Pestalozzi,  Fbiedrich  Jahn  (1778) 
became  noted  for  his  zealous  endeavours  to  promote  healthful 
physical  education  in  all  classes  of  society.  The  arguments  of  Jahn 
deserve  general  attention,  and  we  may  extend  this  remark  to 
another  writer  on  the  same  subject,  Fbiedrich  Kltjmpp  (1700). 
When  Thisbbch,  the  classical  scholar,  produced  a  work  on '  Edu- 
cation according  to  the  Principles  of  True  Humanity/  Klumpp 
replied  to  it  in  a  book  contending  for  physical  training,  which  he 
opposed  to  the  system  that  he  styled  *  hyper-classical  *  of  education. 
He  afterwards  moderated  some  opinions,  and  advocated  a  union 
of  classical  and  physical  exercises  in  all  schools  and  universities. 
The  writings  and  lectures  of  Jahn  and  Klumpp  had  considerable 
influence  in  extending  wholesome  views  of  the  objects  of  educa- 
tion. Karl  voir  Raumer  (1783),  a  writer*  in  several  departments 
of  literature,  produced  a  '  History  of  the  Science  of  Education ' 
(1843-6).  In  the  following  passage  Jie  adopts  Herder's  pi-in- 
ciples : — 

'  Practical  life  now  enforces  its  claims  on  the  attention  of  men 
of  learning.  Men  who  leave  our  universities,  and  enter  into 
actual  life  as  doctors,  or  preachers,  or  local  authorities,  find  a 
necessity  of  opening  their  eyes  to  present  realities,  and  adapting 
themselves  to  the  circumstances  of  the  people.  Our  literary  men 
have  long  neglected  to  Ailtivate  the  powers  which  practical 
life  ui'gently  demands;  but  lately  there  have  been  signs  of  an 
approaching  union  between  learning  and  life.  Even  our  mechanics 
have  made  some  advances  in  intellectual  culture,  and  we  may 
now  hope  that  the  two  extremes  of  education  which  we  have 
described  may  be  brought  into  a  reasonable  intercourse  with  each 
other.' 

Among  all  the  followers  of  Pestalozzi  hardly  any  name  is  more 
prominent  than  that  of  Friedrich  Adolf  Bibsterweg,  the 
zealous  advocate  of  a  free  secular  system  of  education.  One  of 
the  great  controversies  by  which  the  repose  of  the  German 
Empire  is  now  threatened  ai'ises  from  the  claim  of  Rome  to 
exercise  a  supreme  authority  over  the  education  of  the  people. 

Philology. — ^It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state,  that  under  this 
heading  we  attempt  to  give  nothing  more  than  initiatory  out- 


558  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATUBK  [Ch. 

lines  for  the  use  of  young  leadera.  The  daiinfl  of  sach  echolan 
as  BoBOKH  and  Hsbicakn  cannot  be  estimated  here.  Their  works 
are  too  comprehensive  to  be  fairly  described,  and  too  numerous 
to  be  mendoned  seyerally.  The  characteristics  of  many  learned 
works  in  this  department  may  be  indicated  by  a  passage  in  the 
'  Lectures  on  the  Study  of  Antiquity '  (1807),  by  Feisdrich  A. 
Wolf  (1759-1824),  one  of  the  greatest  philologists  of  his  time. 
He  says : — '  Our  object  in  the  study  of  antiquity  should  be  to 
gain  a  knowledge  of  men  as  they  existed  in  ancient  times.  This 
knowledge  must  be  founded  on  our  study  of  literary  and  other 
remains  of  antiquity  ;  and  from  this  study  we  must  induce  general 
obserrations  on  the  organic  development  and  the  importance  of 
ancient  national  culture.'  This  definition  of  philology  opens  a 
most  spadous  field  of  inquiiy.  Classical  erudition  is  thus  con- 
nected with  researches  respecting  not  only  the  languages,  but* 
also  the  religion,  philosophy,  social  economy,  and  arts  and  sdences- 
of  ancient  nations.  GisoBe  F.  C&buzbb,  one  of  many  scholars 
who  adopted  Wolfs  definition,  wrote  a  remarkable  book  on  the 
'  Symbolism  and  Mythology  of  the  Ancients,  especially  the  Greeks ' 
(1810).  EjkBL  Ottfried  Mulleb  (1707-1840)  must  be  men- 
tioned as  an  accomplished  scholar,  and  the  author  of  a  '  History 
of  Grecian  Literature  to  the  Time  of  Alexander  the  Great' 
(1841),  which  was  left  incomplete.  Another  work  by  the  tome* 
writer,  a  '  Manual  of  Grecian  Art  and  Arch»ology,'  deserves 
commendation.  Among  many  works  recommended  to  classical 
students,  we  may  mention  the  writings  of  F&iedbioh  Weloksb 
on  the  '  Tragedies  of  i&chylus ; '  the  '  Real  Bncydopsedia  of 
Classical  Antiquities,'  edited  by  Fault,  Walz,  and  Teuffel 
(1841-6) ;  and  the  *  Life  and  Works  of  Sophocles,'  by  Ajdolfhits 
SoHOLL  (1842).  Works  which  may  be  recommended  to  the  general 
reader  include  'Hellas  and  Rome/  by  E.  F.  BoBBEBa  (1841-4), 
*  Grecian  Antiquities/  by  Wilhelm  Waohsmuth  (1843-6),  and 
a  '  History  of  Roman  Literature/  by  J.  C.  F.  BIhb  (1845). 
The  '  Comparative  Grammar  of  the  Sanscrit,  Zend,  Armenian, 
Greek,  Latin,  and  Gothic  Languages,'  by  Fbai^z  Bopp,  may  re- 
present a  series  of  works  that,  during  recent  years,  have  made  a 
revolution  in  the  study  of  comparative  philology.  We  may 
refer  here  to  the  'Etymological  Researches '  of  G.  A.  F.  Pott. 

The  world  is  indebted  to  the  antique  classic  studies  of  German 
scholars.     Into  the  obscurities  of  Greek  and  Roman  literature 


XXXni,]  PHILOLOGY.  559 

they  have  made  the  most  lahorious  researches^  and  their  critical 
editions  and  recensions  of  the  ckssics  are  marvels  of  enlightened 
and  poorly-rewarded  industry.  The  enthusiasm  with  which  this 
branch  of  learning  has  been  pursued  forms  a  remarkable  contrast 
to  the  scholarship  of  Great  Britain,  where  little  tima  is  spent  on 
what  does  not  promise  a  handsome  pecuniary  reward.  The  pur- 
suit of  learning  for  learning's  Stdce  is  found  scarcely  anywhere 
out  of  Germany. 

Few  writers  have  excelled  FRnBDBtOH  Jacobs  (1764)  in  giving 
in  a  popular  style  the  information  gathered  by  extensive  classical 
learning.  His  writings  show*  an  enthusiastic  admiration  of  the 
literature  and  fine  arts  of  the  Greeks,  which  he  studied  in  their 
relations  to  the  social  circumstances  and  natural  characteristics 
of  the  people.  Li  the  departments  of  German  and  Oriental 
Philology  Rudolph  yok  Raitmeb  and  Theodob  Bxnfet  are  to 
be  mentioned  as  historians  whose  works  direct  the  reader  tQ 
abundant  stores  of  information.  These  works  are  parts  of  the 
extensive  series  entitled  ^  The  History  of  the  Sciences  in  Gennany 
in  Modem  Times.'  To  name  it  here  will  serve  a  twofold  purpose. 
It  may  indicate  the  vast  resources  of  information  that  may  be 
found  in  the  Spedal  Literatures  of  phydcal  science  and  of  his* 
tory  and  philology,  and,  at  the  same  time,  it  may  excuse  the 
brevity  of  our  notices  in  this  chapter.  It  would  be  impossible 
here  to  describe  fully  the  merits  of  only  two  writers— the  brothers 
Jacob  and  Wilhelm  Gbiuu.  Jacob,  the  elder  brother,  deyoted 
his  researches  to  the  German  literature  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
collected  the  scattered  remnants  of  old  popular  stories.  In  con- 
junction with  his  brother,  he  published  his '  Children's  Fables,  or 
Household  Tales.'  These  are  marked  by  .a  style  of  great  sim- 
plicity, and  often  convey  pleasing  sentiments  and  good  morals^ 
mingled  generally  with  iiantastic  and  supernatural  adventures. 
A  collection  of  'German.  Legends'  was  produced  in  1816. 
Meanwhile  Jacob  Grimm  studied  industriously  the  old'"  German 
languages,  national  antiquities,  and  the  old  system  of  laws. 
The  result  of  these  researches  appeared  in  a  *  Grammar  of  the 
German  Language  *  (1818-31),  a  work  on  the  '  Legal  Antiquities 
of  Germany'  (1828),  and  the  *  German  Mythology'  (1836),  fol- 
lowed by  a  *  History  of  the  German  Iianguage,'  and  by  a  '  German 
Dictionary,'  which  was  left  incomplete,  but  is  continued  by  other 
hands.  .  Wilhelm  followed  the  same  course  of  studies.      The 


560  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATURE.  [Ch. 

brothers,  indeed,  might  be  styled  intellectual  twins,  inseparable 
in  their  sympathies  as  in  their  literary  pursuits }  and  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  elder  and  m^re  powerful,  Jacob,  might  be  also  as- 
cribed, with  some  abatement,  to  the  younger,  Wilhelm.  Their 
example  gave  a  strong  impulse  to  the  study  of  Geiman  archie* 
ology.  It  may  seem  a  trifle  hardly  worth  mentioning,  but  it  may 
be  suggested,  that  if  German  scholars  would  generally  follow 
Jacob  Qrikm's  example,  and  have  their  works  printed  in  Roman 
type,  the  change  might  greatly  aid  in  the  diffusion  of  a  knowledge 
of  the  German  language.  Schiller's  friend — Wilhslic  yon  Hum- 
boldt, the  scholar,  critic,  and  patriot — ^must  be  named  here,  with 
a  reference  to  his  suggestive  work  *  On  the  Kawi  I^anguage,'  and 
to  his  important  '  Letter  on  Grammatical  Forms,  and  on  the 
Genius  of  the  Chinese  Language/  This  letter,  written  in  French, 
was  addressed  to  M.  Abel  H^musat. 

Lunwia  Uhland,  who  has  been  mentioned  as  one  of  the 
most  national  and  popular  of  modern  poets,  is  also  well  known 
as  a  student  *of  old  litemture.  He  wrote  an  interesting  book  on 
the  character  of  Walter  von  der  Vogelweide,  the  minstrel  and 
moralist  of  the  twelfth  century,  of  whom  some  account  is  given 
in  the  present  work.  Another  writer,  allied  with  Jacob  Grimm  in 
the  national  tone  of  his  productions,  was  Joseph/ Gobbbs  (1776- 
1848). 

Wolfgang  Menzbl,  well  known  as  a  critical  and  pole- 
mical writer  of  the  national  school,  has  written  a  '  History  of 
German  Literature '  (1828),  <  The  Spirit  of  History  *  (1836),  and 
*  Europe  in  the  Year  1840.*  As  the  editor  of  the  *  Literatur-Blatt,* 
he  has  warmly  opposed  the  tendencies  of  recent  philosophical  and 
social  theories.  It  may  be  added  that  Menzel  is  one  of  the 
clearest  and  best  writers  of  German  prose.  The  writings  and 
translations  of  Ha  gen,  Lachuann,  Gbafp,  Gbasse,  and  many 
others,  might  be  mentioned  as  important  contributions  to  litera- 
ture and  archsdology ;  but  works  in  this  department  are  peculiarly 
national  in  their  interest,  and  too  numerous  to  be  specified.  To 
mention  one  work  by  E.  G.  Gbaff  will  be  sufficient  to  show  that 
the  philological  works  of  this  school  are  too  comprehensive  to 
be  fairly  described  in  a  short  treatise.  Graffs  '  Thesaurus  of  the 
Old  High -German  Language'  (1830^43)  extends  to  six  quarto 
volumes,  containiog  all  the  words  of  this  language,  with  nume- 
rous notes  on  the  analogies  found  in  the  Gothic,  Old  High-German| 


XXXin.]  LITERAEY  HISTORY.  561 

Sanscrit,  Greek,  Roman,  Anglo-Saxon,  Dutch,  Danisli,  Swedish, 
and  English  languages.  A  '  History  of  the  Poetical  National 
Literature  of  the  Germans  *  (1835-41),  hy  Geobge  Gottfried 
GERYOfUS,  presents  a  remarkable  instance  of  industry.  The 
author  must  have  read  whole  libraries  in  order  to  arrive  at  his 
results.  To  avoid  the  appearance  of  dogmatic  assertion,  he  gives 
details  of  works  which  he  has  pronounced  to  be  generally  con- 
temptible. This  laborious  style,  which  displays  the  learning  of  the 
author,  is  by  no  means  attractive  to  the  general  reader,  who 
wishes  to  arrive  at  results  by  a  short  process.  Yet  Gervinus  is 
no  pedantic  writer.  His  attention  is  not  confined  to  the  world  of 
books,  but  he  studies  literature  chiefly  in  its  relations  to  the  pro- 
gress of  society.  His  views  on  this  subject  are  directly  opposed 
to  the  doctrines  of  Friedrich  Schlegel.  It  must  be  added  that 
Gervinus  often  wrote  in  a  polemic  tone,  and  made  criticisms  on 
poetry  serve  as  means  of  giving  expression  to  his  political  and 
religious  prejudices.  The  'Lectures  on  German  National  Litera- 
ture,' by  A.  F.  0.  ViLMAR  (1844),  are  partly  distinguished  by  a 
tone  of  enthusiastic  admiration,  but  are  generally  fair  in  the  com- 
parative estimates  given  of  various  authors.  Some  of  Vilmar's 
sketches,  however,  remind  us  of  a  painter  whose  taste  for  beauty 
tempts  him  now  and  then  to  put  ideal  traits  into  his  portraits  of 
real  faces. 

Works  on  German  literary  history  are  so  numerous  that  we  can 
give  here,  in  addition  to  the  preceding  notices,  only  the  names 
of  the  following  authors,  to  whose  writings  students  may  be  re- 
ferred for  abundant  stores  of  information : — Wachlbr,  Kober- 
STEiN,  Waceernaobl,  Godeke,  Kcrz,  IIillebrano,  Hetti^eb, 
GoTTSCHALL,  pRTJTz,  and  Julian  Schmidt. 

To  the  extensive  series  of  historical  and  critical  works  contri- 
buted by  Germans  to  Shakesperian  literature  we  can  only  refer. 
The  excellent '  English  Grammar '  by  Edttaed  MAtzksr  must  not 
be  left  unnoticed. 

.Esthetics, — The  History  of  the  Fine  Arts,  and  the  critical  and 
philosophical  studies  included  under  the  title  of  ^Esthetics,  are 
other  departments  in  which  German  Literature  is  comparatively 
rich.  The  principles  maintained  in  the  writings  of  Winckelmann, 
and  in  Lessing*s  '  Laokoon,'  have  beeh  developed  by  later  authors, 
who  have  written  historical  and  critical  works  on  architecture, 
sculpture,  and  painting.    The  writings  of  Thiebscs  and  Semper 

0  0 


562  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.  •[Ch. 

on  ancient  art  contain  Taluable  notices,  and  a  ^Hiatoiy  of  the 
Plastic  Arts/  by  E.  Sghkaase  (1843-4),  is  distinguished  by  its 
comprebensive  character.  This  writer  studies  art  in  connection 
with  the  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual  characteristics  of 
Tarious  epochs.  The  *  History  of  Painting,'  by  F.  Kvolbr  (1837), 
extends  its  notices  oyer  the  period  from  the  time  of  Copstantine 
the  Great  to  the  present  century.  A  'History  of  the  Plastic 
Arts  in  Christian  Nations,'  by  Gottfried  Kikkbl  (1846),  may 
be  named  here.  With  regard  to  Gothic  architecture,  the  writings 
ofKALLENBAGH,  HoFSTABT,  MoLLBB,  and  SuLPiz  BoissERts,  may 
be  commended.  Passayakt,  Waagsn,  Solger,  Hotho,  Oarri^re, 
ViSGHER  and  Lubkb — these  names  may  indicate  the  existence  of 
a  rather  extensive  class  of  books  treating  of  ^Esthetics  and  of  the 
History  of  the  Fine  Arts. 

Music  is  so  far  an  object  of  sensation  that  all  attempts  to  reduce 
it  to  scientific  principles  can  only  succeed  to  a  certain  extent. 
Yet,  if  it  is  to  be  ranked  with  the  intellectual  arts,  it  must  submit 
to  the  philosophical  analogies  and  laws  which  prevail  in  poetry, 
painting,  sculpture,  and  architecture.  Some  importance,  there- 
fore, must  be  ascribed  to  the  endeavpurs  of  several  writers  who 
have  subjected  music  to  philosophical  criticism.  The  '  Elements 
of  a  Universal  Theory  of  Music,'  by  Friedrich  Krattsb  (1838), 
are  worthy  of  notice.  A**  History  of  European  Music,'  by  R.  G. 
Ejesewetter,  gives  an  account  of  the  progress  of  the  art  through 
various  styles  of  composition,  from  the  first  ecclesiastical  music  to 
that  of  the  present  day.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  books  on 
the  science  of  music  is  that  by  H.  Helkholtz — '  The  Doctrine  of 
Tonal  Sensations '  (1865) — ^which  professes  to  supply  a  physiological 
basis  for  the  theory  of  music 


XXXIV.]  £CCLESUSTICAL  HISTOBY,  568 


CHAPTER   XXXIV, 
aocEcasiAsncAL  HxaroBT,  thioioot,  aitd  ssuoioir. 

JEccLsaiASTiCAL  H18TORY, — ^Books  are  nnmerous  in  this  depiirt- 
ment.  The  writiDgs  of  Thible  and  Hase  may  be  described  aa 
concise  and  popular  manuals.  *  A  '  Manual  of  Universal  Church 
History/  by  H.  E.  F.  GTTEBnns,  extends  to  three  yolumes  (5th 
edition,  1843),  and  maintains  strictly  Lutheran  views.  The  com- 
prehensive work  by  Neaitdbb  (bom  in  1789)  is  in  ten  volumes  (2nd 
edition,  1844).  It  is  distinguished  by  liberal  views,  and  describes 
the  internal  conditions  of  Christianity  under  various  changes  of 
ecclesiastical  government.  Neander,  whose  parents  were  Jews,  ac- 
quired fame  among  theologians  by  researches  respecting'the  primi- 
tive Church,  and  also  by  several  minor  works — '  Julian '  (1812), 
*The  System  of  Revelation'  (1818),  and  ' Antignosticus '  (1826). 
A  *  History  of  the  Christian  Church'  (1841-4),  by  A.  Gfrobeb, 
is  an  extensive  work,  and  displays  wide  research,  especially  with 
regard  to  the  political  relations  of  the  Church  in  various  epochs. 
The  writings  of  MiLBHEDTEKE,  Haqenbach,  Nextdeceeb,  and 
BcHEiTEXL,  may  be  advant&geously  consulted  on  the  '  History  of 
the  Reformation ; '  and  a  work  entitled  '  Reformers  before  the 
Reformation '  (1841),  by  Kabl  Ullhaitk,  traces  back  the  ten« 
dencies  of  Luther's  times  to  earlier  periods.  On  many  disputed 
points  in  the  history  of  the  Church,  the  reader  who  would  have 
facts  stated  from  the  Roman  Catholic,  and  also  from  the  Protestant- 
point  of  view,  may  be  referred  to  the  writings  of  Dobneb  and 
ScHWABTZ  on  the  history  of  Protestant  Theology  \  to  the  polemical 
writings  of  Febdinand  Baitb  and  to  those  of  his  Roman  Catholic 
opponent  Mohleb,  and,  lastly,  to  the  historical  and  polemical 
writings  of  Db.  Dollhtgeb. 

Some  brief  notices  of  theological  controversies  ^as  viewed  in 
their  real  or  supposed  connection  with  philosophy —have  already 

oo2 


564  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUKE.  [Ch. 

been  given  in  a  note  to  Chapter  XXIX.  To  these  may  be  added 
a  few  observations  on  several  writers  who  may  represent  the  more 
important  differences  of  belief  that  have  prevailed  in  Germany 
during  the  last  hundred  years. 

The  comparatively  undisturbed  state  of  Protestant  orthodoxy  in 
tlie  course  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  was  mostly 
due  to  the  influence  of  Csesaiism;  or,  in  o^her  words,  to  a  pre- 
dominance of  the  State  in  the  affairs  of  the  Church.  The  peace 
that  existed  then  was  not  founded  on  any  wide  doctrine  of 
toleration,  of  which  Keformers  in  the  sixteenth  century  knew 
nothing.  Even  in  the  seventeenth  century,  men  were  put  to 
death  as  heretics  at  Liibeck  and  at  Eonigsberg.  Then  Pietism 
arose — not  before  it  was  urgently  wanted — ^but,  though  Spener 
and  his  fiiends  denied  no  Lutheran  doctrine,  they  were  persecuted 
by  hard  and  dry  Lutheran  theologians.  Several  influences  were 
now  combined  to  disturb  the  reign  of  orthodox  theology.  The 
writings  of  English  and  French  deists ;  Wolfs  dry  and  abstract 
philosophy,  and  the  scepticism  made  fashionable  by  the  Court  of 
Berlin — all  aided  in  spreading  the  shallow  rationalism  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  which  may  be  styled  'old  rationalism/  to" 
distinguish  it  from  the  *  free  theology '  of  the  present  time. 

It  is  hard  to  say  exactly  when  and  how  the  transition  from  old 
to  new  began;  but  Klopstock,  Ilamann,  Jacob!,  Lavater,  and 
Herder,  all  aided  in  asserting  the  claims  of  intuition  and  feeling ; 
the  men  of  the  Romantic  School  next  asserted  the  claims  of  the 
imagination,  and  then  followed  Hegel  and  Schleiermacher,  who, 
however  opposed  to  each  other  on  minor  matters,  were  alike 
earnest  in  their  endeavours  to  reconcile  believing  and  thinking — 
the  soul  and  the  intellect.  The  former  boldly  attacked,  not 
merely  the  outworks,  but  even  the  central  fortress  of  the  old 
rationalists — their  '  understanding '  itself,  which  they  had  deified 
as  *  reason '  and  had  enthroned  as  a  supreme  arbiter.  Hegel 
told  them  that  their  mostly  negative  analysis  of  history  and  of 
religion  might  all  be  reduced  to  a  few  subordinate  forms  of 
thought,  important  and  useful  in  the  lower  mathematics,  as  in 
mechanics  and  in  trade,  but  by  no  means  final  and  absolute  as 
rules  for  deciding  questions  in  philosophy  and  theology.  On  the 
other  hand,  Schleiermacher,  though  hating  the  same  object  in 
view — a  reconciliation  of  the  heart  and  the  mind — began  with  an 
appeal  to  the  heart  He  must  be  viewed  aa  the  founder  of  a  new 
school  of  theology. 


XXXIV.]  1770—1870.     THEOLOGY.  565 

Fribdrtch  Erwst  Daniel  Schleiermacher,  bom  at  Breslau, 
Slst  Noyember  1768^  received  hia  early  training  under  the  care  of 
the  United  Brethren  (or  Moravians)  in  their  theological  school 
at  Barby.  Thp  pietistic  associations  of  his  youth  were  never 
forgotten,  but  gave  to  his  teaching  a  glowing  religious  fervour, 
which  was  singularly  blended  with  the  exercise  of  an  acute 
critical  intellect.  It  was  not  without  grief  that,  when  vexed  by 
doubt,  he  left  the  society  from  which  hia  first  religious  impressiona 
were  derived.  He  was,  subsequently,  for  a  short  time  associated, 
in  literature,  with  the  brothers  Scblegel  and  their  friends.  In 
his  'Discoursea  on  Beligion,'  he  placed  himself,  at  once,  in 
opposition  to  the  dogmatic  Lutheran  theology  and  to  the 
rationalism  of  the  age.  For  a  full  view  of  his  later  doctrine,  we 
refer  to  his  chief  work, '  The  Christian  Faith,'  which  has  been 
descri!bed  as  forming  the  basis  of  a  new  evangelical  theology.  It 
might  be  otherwise  described  as  teaching  that  religion,  as  distinct 
from  both  theology  and  ethics,  is  eminently  personal  or  subjective, 
and  consists  in  a  consciousness  of  dependence  upon  and  commu- 
nion with  the  Divine  Being.  Religion,  thus  viewed,  is  not  an 
objective  knowledge  of  truth,  but  a  knowledge  of  ourselves  in 
relation  to  that  truth ;  in  other  words,  religion  is  personal  and 
experimentaL  Schleiermacher^s  philosophical  works  and  mis- 
cellaneous writings  give  proofs  of  a  versatile  and  highly  cultured 
mind.  In  one  of  his  essays  he  expressed  a  resolution  to  the  effect 
that  he  would  never  grow  old,  in  an  intellectual  or  in  a  moral 
sense,  and  his  friends  were  often  reminded  of  that  promise  when 
they  heard  him,  though  gray  with  years,  still  lecturing  and 
preaching  with  youthful  fervour  and  vivacity.  He  died  at 
Berlin,  February  12,  1834. 

The  theologians  whp  partly  derived  their  impulses  and 
tendenciea  from  Schleiermacher^a  teaching  were  aoon  divided 
into  aeveral  partiea.'  On  the  more  orthodox  aide  may  be  named 
NiTzscH  and  Julius  Muller,  airthor  of  an  elaborate  treatiae  '  On 
Sin.*  Neakder  the  historian,  whose  motto  was  'the  heart 
makes  the  theologian/  Lucre,  author  of  a  '  Commentary  on  St. 
John's  Gospel,'  and  Ullmann,  one  of  the  opponents  of  Strauss, 
were  all  classed  with  the  mediative  men,  or  those  who  occupied 
an  intermediate  place  between  Schleiermacher's  doctrine  on  one 
side  and  the  old  Lutheran  orthodoxy  on  the  other.  It  is  not  so 
easy  to  define  the  position  held  by  Friedrich  August  Tholuck, 
a  theologian  of  versatile  talenta,  whose  aermona  have  been  highly 


566  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBB.  [Ch. 

commended  both  for  tlieir  style  and  the  depth  of  feeling  expressed 
in  them.  It  has  been  said  that  his  polemical  writings  want  both 
depth  and  consistency. 

Among  the  more  rationalising  followers  of  Schleiermacher  are 
named  his  friend  Db  Wsttb,  a  learned  and  industrious  writer  on 
the  exegesis  of  the  New  Testament;  Hase,  Blebk,  Thilo,  and 
ScHWSiTZER.  It  is  by  no  means  as  strict  adherents  to  Scbleier- 
macher's  doctrines,  but  as  having  derived  from  his  teaching  their 
earlier  tendencies  in  criticism,  that  FjsRDHfANn  Baub,  the  head  of 
the  Tiibingen  School,  and  David  Fbiebrich  Strauss^  author  of 
Daa  Leben  Jesuj  are  named  here.  That  work,  which  has  been 
noticed  in  Chapter  XXIX.,  gave  rise  to  a  controversy  of  which 
not  even  the  outline  could  be  given  here.  Readers  who  wish  to 
find  the  statements  of  a  moderate  orthodox  writer  on  this  and 
other  modem  theological  controversies  may  be  referred  to  '  A  < 
History  of  Protestant  Theology/  by  Dr.  J.  A.  Dornbr,  the  vmter 
of  an  elaborate  work  on  Christology.  Dr.  Carl  Schwarz  (of 
Gotha)  in  his  work  Zur  Oe$€hichte  der  netiesten  Theoloffte,  treats  of 
the  same  subject,  but  writes,  though  with  moderation,  yet  as  an 
advocate  of  free  theology.  Taking  the  two  books  together,  it  may 
be  said  that  they  give  a  fair  account  of  recent  theories  and 
eontroversiea  on  theology. 

The  historical  basis  on  which  the  free  theology  of  the  latest 
school  is  grounded  is  that  portion  of  the  New  Testament  which 
has  been  admitted  as  authentic  by  the  Tiibingen  School  of  biblical 
criticism,  and  its  successors. 

Ferdinand  Christian  Baur,  already  named  as  the  head  of 
the  Tubingen  School,  was  bom  in  1702,  and  died  in  1860.  He 
conducted,  with  the  aid  of  his  friends  Zeller,  Schwegler,  and 
Hilgenfeld,  the  '  Joumal  of  Scientific  Theology '  (1831-^7),  in 
which  his  theory  respecting  the  relations  existing  between  the 
several  parts  of  the  New  Testament  Canon  first  appeared.  In 
his  work  ^  On  Gnosticism,'  and*  in  a  '  History  of  the  Christian 
Church  during  the  First  Three  Centuries,'  he  endeavoured  to 
develope  and  confirm  his  theory  of  a  gradual  progress  of  thought 
and  faith,  beginning  in  controversy  and  ending  in  a  reconciliation 
of  the  two  parties  by  which,  as  he  believed,  the  Church  had  been 
divided  at  a  very  early  time. 

It  would  lead  too  fnr  to  attempt  an  analysis  of  the  arguments 
used  for  and  against  the  theoiy  of  the  Tiibingen  School.     It  has 


XXXI v.]        1770—1870.     THE  TUBINGEN 'SCHOOL.        667 

been  generally  accepted — ^though  not  without  some  modifications 
— by  writers  on  free  theology,  including  the  Swiss  theologians, 
Lano,  Hibzel^  and  Biedbrmank.  Its  mere  outlines  may  be 
given  as  follows: — ^The  four  epistles  written  by  St.  Paul  and 
addressed  respectively  to  the  Galatians,  to  the  Corinthians,  and  to 
Christians  in  Rome,  afford  clear  and  abundant  evidence  that  the 
Christian  Church,  in  the  first  century,  was  vexed  and  torn  by 
controversy.  One  party  would  make  it  a  narrow  sect  included 
within  the  boundary  of  Judaism ;  the  other — ^led  by  St.  Paul — 
would  expand  it  into  a  faith  .broad  and  strong  enough  to  grasp 
and  subjugate  the  whole  world.  The  latter  party  gradually 
prevailed.  This  leading  fact,  or  theory,  is  uped  as  a  key  to  explain 
the  relations  existing  between  several  parts  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment. It  is  asserted  that  St.  Paul  was  viewed  with  suspicion 
and  jealousy  by  the  Petrine  or  Judaising  sect,  and  was  condemned 
and  persecuted  as  an  innovator,  if  not  as  heretical.  The  '  Acts  of 
the  Apostles,'  we  are  told,  were  written  with  the  purpose  of 
reconciling  the  two  parties,  by  ascribing  equal  honour  to  their 
two  leaders,  Peter  and  Paul,  who  were,  therefore,  both  described 
as  apostles  sent  to  the  Gentiles.  It  is  maintained  that  this  theory 
of  an  early  controversy  between  a  Narrow  and  a  Broad  Church  is 
confirmed  by  the  Book  of  the  .Apocalypse,  written  (it  is  supposed) 
by  a  member  of  the  Judaising  party,  while  the  fourth  Gospel, 
described  as  belonging  to  the  second  century,  is  accepted  as  a 
proof  that,  at  that  time,  the  Pauline  and  Catholic  version  of  the 
original  Gospel  had  finally  prevailed  over  the  doctrine  of  the 
narrow  party.  Again,  the  theory  is  made  use  of  to  explain  the 
differences  found  in  the  two  Gospels  of  Matthew  and  Luke.  The 
former,  we  are  told,  was  written  with  a  Judaising  tendency,  while 
the  latter  was  Pauline  in  •  its  intention.  After  studying  this 
Tiibingen  theory,  one  reflection  seems  almost  inevitable : — ^if  the 
Original  Light,  thus  described  as  shining,  in  its  time  of  dawn, 
through  surrounding  mists  and  clouds,  could,  nevertheless,  pene- 
trate all  the  darkness  of  the  following  centuries,  and  could  spread 
itself  over  so  great  a  portion  of  the  Roman  world,  how  bright  must 
that  Light  have  been  in  itself  I 

itere  almost  all  parties  are  compelled  to  meet.  Dr.  Lakg,  one 
of  the  most  popular  of  the  Swiss  writers  who  have  accepted 
generally  the  results  of  Baur's  theory,  expresses  his  thankfulness 
to  the  criticism^  which,  after  all  its  negations,  has  left  for  us  (he 


568     OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATURE.      [Cu. 

Bays)  'what  the  world  now  wants' — 'Christianity  as  it  was  in 
the  beginning;  and  without  any  miracles.'    In  an  essay  written  for 
a  popular  series  of  tracts,  Dr.  Lang  tells  us  that  he  accepts  the 
narrative  of  the  resurrection  only  as  the  representation  of  a  pro- 
found spiritual  truth — ^the  union  of  Christ  with  his  true  followers. 
Subsequent  statements  of  miraculous  appearances  of  Christ  are 
described  as  narratiyes  of '  visions.'    Yet  the  author  of  this  tract 
concludes  thus  his  summary  of  what  remains  after  all  his  own 
negations : — *  Beyond  all  the  controTersy  that  arose  soon  after  his 
death,  there  rises  before  us,  in  solitary  grandeur,  the  sublime 
image  of  One  who,  as  the  result  of  an  unique  consciousness  of 
the  Divine  Presence,  felt  himself  called  by  God  to  establish  on 
earth  a    Divine   Government  for  all  mankind.'    Here,   as  the 
writer  supposes,  solid  ground  remains  upon  which  all  parties  may, 
at  some  future  time,  meet  and  be  reconciled. 

The  more  positive  teaching  of  the  free  Swiss  theologians  is 
found  in  the  writings  of  Keim  and  BiEBERHAKir.  The  first 
named  of  these  authors  has  written  on  the  basis  of  Iree  theology 
a  'Life  of  Christ,'  which  has  been  commended  as  one  of  the  most 
elaborate  and  thoughtful  works  of  its  class.  The  author  confesses 
that  he  is  unfd)le  to  give  an  account  of  the  rise  of  the  Christian 
Church,  without  admitting  either  that  miracles  occurred,  or  that 
the  character  of  the  Founder  was  a  miracle  greater  than  all  that 
are  nairated  in  the  Gospels.  Another  work  of  this  class.  Das 
Chardkter-Bxld  Jem,  written  by  Daniel  Schenkel,  has  mostly  an 
ethical  but  also  a  political  and  democratic  tendf^ncy.  It  is  only 
fair  to  these  writers  to  say  that,  while  they  endeavour  to  give  the 
realism  of  the  Gospel  narrative,  their  writings  are  perfectly  free 
from  Kenan's  irreverence.  The  German  authors  have  nothing  to  say 
about  let  belles  creatures,  introduced  as  the  appropriate  decorations 
of  a  French  fiction.  Our  attempt  to  give  some  concise  account 
of  the  tendencies  of  Baur's  followers  must  be  here  concluded. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  such  Biblical  criticism  as 
we  have  described  has  been  strongly  opposed.  Among  many 
writers  who  have  opposed  innovations,  Ernst  Wilhelm  Heng- 
STENBERO  may  be  named  as  one  of  the  leading  representatives 
of  Lutheran  orthodox  doctrine.  As  the  editor  of  the  '  Evangelical 
Church  Times,'  he  has  been  active  and  zealous  in  his  opposition 
to  every  form  of  rationalism  and  in  his  assertion  of  a  plenaiy  . 


XXXIV.]  1770—1870.     HENGSJENBERG.  669 

infipiratioii  of  the  Bible.  His  Oriental  scholarship  has  been  made 
Berviceable  in  his  chief  work,  *  The  Christologj  of  the  Old 
To'timcnt.'  His  antagonists  have  ascribed  to  him  a  tendency  to 
^  bibliolatrj/  an(^  have  censured  as  '  talmudistic  *  his  method  of 
exegesis,  especially  his  interpretations  of  prophecy.  It  has  been 
asserted— ^though  the  statement  seems  improbable— that,  with 
more  rhyme  than  reason,  Dr.  Hengstenberg  could  find  in  the 
dema^o^es  of  the  year  1848  a  fulfilment  of  a  prophecy  respecting 
Gog  and  Magog.'  The  millennium  predicted  in  the  Apocalypse 
began,  says  Dr.  Hengstenberg,  with  the  reign  of  Charlemagne,  and 
came  to  a  conclusion  in  1800. 

While  the  editor  of  the  *  Evangelical  Church  Journal  *  repre- 
sents the  school  of  strict  biblical  orthodoxy,  other  writers,  among 
whom  Stahl,  Leo,  and  Yilmab  may  be  mentioned,  were  the 
advocates  of  an  historical  and  objective  Lutheranism.  The 
position  maintained  by  these  writers  was,  in  some  respects,  like 
that  held  by  Anglo- Catholics  in  the  Church  of  England.  '  The 
Koman  Catholic  Church,'  said  Leo,  'has  been  so  far  purified, 
since  Luther's  time,  that,  if  he  were  living  now,  he  would  not 
separate  from  it.'  This  must  be  regarded  as  expressing  only  the 
sentiment  of  a  small  minority.  In  politics,  as  well  as  in  theology, 
Julius  Stahl  and  Heinrich  Leo  were  generally  described  as  ex- 
tremely conservative  or  retrogressive. 

The  divisions  of  Protestants  and  the  extreme  results  of  their 
recent  biblical  criticism  have,  of  course,  supplied  to  Roman 
Catholic  writers  new  grounds  for  argument  in  support  of  an 
infallible  authority  in  the  Church.  One  of  the  most  able  and 
erudite  of  modern  Roman  Catholic  theologians,  Joh4Kn  Adam 
MoHLEB  (1796-1838),  was  engaged  with  Ferdinand  Baur  in  an 
earnest  controversy,  which  served  to  place  in  definite  opposition 
to  each  other  the  two  confessions  of  faith.  A  brief  quotation 
from  Mohler's  reply  to  Baur  may  show  the  position  maintained 
by  the  Catholic  advocate : — 

*  In  the  Catholic  Cbarch,'  says  Mtthler, '  Christ,  as  seen  in  hbtoiy,  is  set 
forth  OS  the  Object  to  which  the  Subject  [t.e.  ever}'  individual  mind]  must, 
ivithout  reserve,  yield  obedience,  because  it  is  only  through  this  obedience 
that  we  can  attain  to  spiritual  freedom.  The  Church  has  been  instituted 
for  this  purpose—that  the  Object  [of  faith]  may  be  clearly,  and  without 
any  subjective  error,  represented  in  the  world  throughout  all  generations. 
The  Subject  [i.e.  every  individual  mind]  must  be  entirely  submitted  to  the 


S70  OUTLINES  OP' GERMAN  LITERATURE.  [Ch. 

Object,  and  this  implies  the  necessity  of  an  absolate  submisuon   to   the 
authority  of  the  Catholic  Church.'  * 

Db.  DoLLiN0ERy  one  of  the  most  erudite  of  modem  Roman 
Catholic  writers  on  ecclesiastic&l  history,  has  taken  a  prominent 
pari;  in  recent  controversy.     His  chief  historical  works  include 

*  A  Manual  of  Church  History,'  a  work  on  *The  Reformation,' 
'  Hippolytus  and  Kallistus,  or^  the  Roman  Church  in  the  First 
Half  of  the  Third  Century,'  *  The  Heathen  Worid  and  Judaism,' 
'  Christianity  and  the  Church  in  the  time  of  their  Foundation/ 
and  'Papal  Fables  of  the  Middle  Ages.'    In  one  of  his   most 
popularly  written  books,  Kirche  und  Kirchen  (*  The  Church  and 
the   Churches '),  the  author  endeavours  to  show  that  spiritual 
feebleness  is  the  result  of  the  disunion  maintained  by  Protestant* 
ism.    On  the  principle  of  attempting  to  represent  fairiy  the  views 
of  all  parties,  a  few  quotations  are  given  here : — '  The  Protestant 
Church  in  Germany,'  says  Dr.  Dollinger,  '  is  a  Church  of  Theo- 
logians, and  its  places  of  worship  are  lecture-halls.'    The  author 
gives  the  names  of  about  forty  Protestant  theologians  who  have 
renounced  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith,  as  it  stood  in  the 

*  Heidelberg  Catechism.'  and  was  accepted  as  authoritative  until 
1760.  This  list  includes  the  names : — Olshausen,  Schleiermacher, 
Ullmann,  Martensen,  Julius  Miiller,  Dorner,  Kostlin,  and  Baum- 
garten.  A  Protestant  lamentation  on  the  want  of  power  in 
Protestant  pulpits    is    quoted  with   absolute   approval    by  the 

» Catholic  advocate,  who  adds  the  comment  that  when  rationalists 
attend  divine  service,  it  is  mostly  to  admire  the  talents  of  *a 
preacher;  or  if  he  is  dull,  the  reason  for  staying  away  from 
church  is  often  given  in  the  form — *  I  shall  not  go  to  hear  him  ! ' 
The  author  partly  justifies  such  indifference ;  for  he  describes 
Protestant  forms  of  worship  as  didl  and  monotonous.  He  laments 
that  the  poorer  classes  of  the  people  in  Protestant  lands  are,  too 
often,  overworked,  and  that  they  have  lost  many  saints'  days,  or 
holidays,  and  he  adds  a  prediction,'that  they  will  hardly  be  able 
t/)  preserve  for  themselves  one  day  of  rest  in  the  week.  The  way 
to  escape  from  such  oppression  is  to  return  to  the  bosom  of  the 
Church.  The  author,  moreover,  accuses  Protestant  pastors  of 
neglecting  the  care  of  souls,  and  of  making  mere  lecturers  of 
themselves.     Then  follows  this  quotation  : — 

*  NeuA  Untersuckunffen  der  Lehrgegens&tze  zuntchen  dan  KiiAoliken  md 
FrotesianttM,    Von  J.  A.  MdHLEB.    Mainz»  1885. 


XXXrV.]  1770— 187^.     BOLLINGER.  571 

'Theologians  talk  much  of  the  Chnreh/  srts  a  clergyman  in  Wttrtemberg  { 
'but  it  is  now  hardly  more  than  a  name.'  'Or  where  it  exists,'  says 
another  witness, ''it  has  no  union  with  our  eTery-day  life.  It  is  only  an 
Institution  for  Sundays.' 

'  The  poorest  man  in  GUrmany  can  afford  to  buy  a  Bible/  says 
Dr.  Dollinger,  'but  there  is  no  book  less  read.  In  a  hundred 
Protestant  households  you  will  hardly  find  one  where  the  practice 
of  reading  the  Bible  is  maintained.'  To  show  that  his  representa- 
tions are  not  unfair,  the  author  refers  to  Tague  theories  and 
expectations  of  a  '  Church  of  the  Future/  and  he  quotes  the  words 
of  a  Prussian  Minister  of  Education,  who  spoke  of  Church  And 
State  as  '  hastening  on  to  dissolution/  and  declared  that  his  sole 
hope  was  in  '  a  New  Jerusalem  descending  out  of  Heaven.'  It  is 
evident  enough  that  the  Catholic  historian  can  be  severe  in 
controversy.  It  may  be  added  that  he  gives  descriptions,  almost 
as  unfavourable  as  the  above,  of  the  state  of  religion  in  England, 
Scotland,  and  America : — 

'  There,'  he  says, '  Christianity,  among  the  several  sects,  is  a  dough  that 
can  be  kneaded  into  any  shape.  The  churches  and  the  chapels  are  often, 
in  fact,  shops  built  on  speculation  by  men  of  business,  and  the  preacher 
must  be  made  to  pay  or  must  be  dismissed.  The  hearers  are  his  judges, 
and  his  existence  depends  on  the  sen  tence  which  they  pronounce  on  his 
sermons.  Let  him  but  make  a  slip^  and  denounce  the  pet  sins  and  failings 
of  his  flock— especially  of  its  richer  members— and  he  is  a  lost  man. 
Thomas  Scott,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  evangelical  theologians,  writes 
to  the  same  effect :— '*  As  soon,",  he  says,  "  as  a  preacher  begins,  in  good 
earnest,  to  appeal,  in  a  practical  and  penetrative  style,  to  the  consciences  of 
his  bearers,  a  party  arises  against  him  to  censure,  intimidate,  discourage, 
and  pppose  him,  and  to  thrust  him  out  of  the  pastorate." ' 

In  the  work  (JKirche  undKircken)  from  which  the  above  quota- 
tions have  been  made,  the  notion  of  'au  invisible  Church'  is 
treated  with  contempt,  and  the  author  asserts  that  union  is 
impossible  without  submission  to  a  primacy.  He  therefore  cen- 
sures a  merely  episcopal  form  of  government,  like  that  of  the 
Byzantine  or  the  Anglican  Church,  and  argues  in  fayour  of  Papal 
supremacy ;  yet  he  contends  that  this  should  be,  not  autooratiC| 
but  constitutional— a  monarchy  limited  by  the  preceding  laws 
and  decrees  of  the  Church'  in  OounciL  The  position  thus  main* 
tained  by  the  author  in  1861  has  been,  more  recently,  asserted  in 
opposition  to  the  decrees  of  the  Vatican  Council  in  1870.  A 
belief  prevails  in  Germany,  %bX  both  the  sjllabos  of  1864  and 


572  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAW  LITERATURE.  fCn. 

the  decrees  of  1870  were  especially  designed  to  serve  as  untidotea 
to  tbe  teaching  of  professors  of  history,  philosophy,  and  theology, 
in  German  universities.  In  pamphlets  issued  in  1869,  and  in- 
tended to  prove  the  necessity  of  suppression,  the  results  of 
German  science  were  classed  with  themost  extravagant  declara- 
{ions  of  French  commimista,  and  both  parties  were  described  f^ 
leading  to  a  dissolution  of  society  and  a  restoration  of  barbarism. 
Among  several  protests  from  the  other  side,  one  of  the  most 
important — a  critique  by  'Janus' — was  generally  ascribed  to  Dr. 
Dollinger.  His  arguments  and  quotations  from  Church  history 
wefe  but  weakly  represented  by  the  minority  in  the  Council,  and 
were  condemned  by  the  majority.  He  asserted  that  the  new 
decrees  accorded  neither  with  Scripture^  as  interpreted  by  the 
Fathers,  nor  with  ancient  Catholic  doctrine;  that  they  were 
supported  by  quotations  from  false  authorities;  that  they  were 
opposed  to  the  decrees  of  two  general  councils  and  to  several 
declarations  from  Rome ;  and,  lastly,  that  they  were  opposed  to 
the  constitutions  of  several  existing  States.  On  July  17  the 
minority  retreated,  and  on  the  18th  five  hundred  and  forty-seven 
voices  said  'Yea.'  The  next  day,  by  an  extraordinary  coinci- 
dence, was  the  day  when  France  declared  war  agaiiist  Germany. 
No  extensive  disruption  of  the  Church  —  such  as  was  pre- 
dicted or  feared — has  followed,  and  few  have  seen,  as  the  leader 
of  the  Old  Catholics  saw,  the  vast  scope  and  importance  of  that 
decision,  by  which  all  the  assertions  of  the  bull  Unam  Bonctam 
were  dogmatised.  The  minority  have  submitted,  or  are  silent, 
and  Dr.  Dollinger  is  excommunicated.  The  suppression  of  the 
Order  of  Jesuits  in  the  New  Empire  has  followed,  and  has 
been  declared  to  be  an  inevitable  political  measure  of  defence 
against  an  imperium  in  imperio ;  while,  on  the  other  side,  it  is 
asserted  that  the  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  to  enduve  oppres- 
sion and  persecution,  and  polemical  journals  have  suggested  that 
France,  as  the  representative  of  religion,  should  lead  on  a  crusade 
against  Germany. 

The  above  ontlinee  of  the  position  maintained  by  the  Old 
Catholics  may  be  followed  by  a  brief  statement  of  th^  principal 
points  of  dispute  within  the  boundaries  of  Protestantism.  The 
orthodox  Protestant  party  would  maintain  a  fixed  interpretation 
oi  the  Scriptures  as  distinct,  at  once,  from  the  teaching  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  fron*  the  innovations  of  both  Old 


XXXIV.]  THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW  FAITH.  578 

and  New  Bationalism.  A  rejection  of  all  miraculous  narrativee 
contained  in  the  New  Testament  is  one  ^f  the  points  on  which 
rationalistSy  both  Old  and  New,  generally  agree,  though  there  are 
some  exceptions  to  this  rule.  Dr.  Schenkel,  for  example, 
admits,  at  leasts  one  statement  geneisally  accepted  as  miraculous. 
RoTHB,  whose  doctrines  may  be  partly  described  as  Pietistift, 
has  been  named  as  the  greatest  of  German  theologians  since  the 
time  of  Schleiermacher,  and  can  hardly  be  classed  with  any  party. 
The  aims  of  £eim,  Biedermann,  and  other  free  theological 
writers,  already  named,  may  be  described  as  tending,  generally, 
rather  to  moderate  or  to  counteract,  in  some  degree,  than  to 
extend  tKe  negative  work  done  by  Di.  Strauss.  The  writings  of 
the  latter,  however,  have  hAd  an  advantage  in  their  lively  conver- 
sational style,  which  recalls  Lessing's,  and  this  attraction  has 
made  them  more  popular  than  the  works  of  several  authors  who 
have  refused  to  accept  such  results  as  are  given  in  the  book 
entitled  'The  Old  and  the  New  Belief.'  This  work — accepted  as 
the  ultimatum  of  one  class  of  reasoners — ^is  neither  a  scientific  nor 
a  controversial  treatise,  but  gives,  without  discussion,  a  statemenir 
of  the  extent  of  the  writer's  belief,^  or  disbelief.  He  asserts,  of 
himself  and  of  others  whom  he  represents,  that  they  cannot  see 
any  need  for  themselves  of  a  maintenance  of  forms  of  religious 
worship,  and  that  they  have  ceased  to  believe  in  a  personal  God 
and  in  a  future  state,  as  described  in  Christian  teaching.  He 
names,  as  sacrifices  demanded  by  '  the  New  Faith,'  all  the  conso- 
lations that  have  been  derived  from  trust  in  a  Saviour,  a  belief  in 
Divine  Providence,  and  the  hope  of  happiness  in  a  future  state. 
As  substitutes  for  these  consolations  afibrded  by  the  Old  Belief 
the  author  proposes  a  satisfaction  attending  efibrts  in  moral  self- 
culture,  a  resignation  to  the  necessity  by  which  the  world  is 
governed,  and,  thirdly,  a  sense  of  union  with  and  dependence 
upon  the  life  of  the  universe.  In  reply  to  the  question, '  Are  we 
Christians  P '  the  author  replies,-  for  himself  and  friends, '  No ; ' 
but  he  maintains  that  the  resignation  and  moral  culture  above 
named  may  be  viewed  as  substitutes  for  religion.  The  culture  of 
poetic  literature  and  of  music  is  also  described  as  a  substitute  for 
religion.  The  writer  appends  some  remarks  of  a  conservative 
character  on  society  and  politics: — 'We  do  not  for  a  moment 
deny,'  he  says, '  that  hitherto  the  majority  of  men  haye  needed  a 
Church;  or  tiiat  they  may  long  continue  in  need  of  it,'. 


574  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  UTERATURB.  [Cs. 

Of  this  admission  tbe  Roman  Church  etuIs  itself.  From  all 
the  restless  labours  o4  building  up  systems  of  thought  to  support. 
Tarious  forms  of  belief,*  from  the  seal  displayed  in  the  demolition 
of  one  system  of  philosophy  after  another,  from  all  the  manifold 
divisions  and  controversies  of  the  several  schools  or  parties  in 
Protestant  theology,  and  from  the  asserted  tendencies  of  modem 
sdence  towards  materialism  or  atheism,  the  advocates  of  an 
exclusive  and  infallible  authority  abiding  within  the  Roman 
Catholic  Church  derive  some  of  their  most  efiective  ailments. 
These  have  been  urged,  with  more  than  ordinary  zeal,  during 
recent  years.  The  controversy  excited  by' the  declarations  and 
the  decrees  issued  from  Rpme  in  1864  and  1870  is  far*  too  com- 
piehensiye  to  be  described  here.  Its  range— or  TragvoeUe,  as 
Germans  say — ^lies  beyond  our  powers  of  calculation ;  but  some  of 
its  immediate  results  are  obvious.*  It  makes  the  advocates  of 
several  creeds  and  opinions  more  fully  acquainted  with  each  other. 
There  may  be  found  now  in  the  writings  of  exclusive  Roman 
Catholic  advocates,  not  only  references  to  the  works  of  numerous 
-modem  philosophers  and  historians,  but  also  many  quotations 
from  the  writings  of  Huxley,  Darwin,  Moleschotty  Biichner,  and 
other  scientific  men.  The  extreme  doctrines  of  both  French  and 
German  Socialists  are  described  by  Catholic  authors  as  the  in- 
evitable results  of  a  refusal  to  submit  to  the  authority  of  Rome. 
Hettinger'8  Apologie  des  ChritUnthums  (of  which  a  third  edition 
appeared  in  1867)  is,  in  fact,  an  elaborate  defence  of  the  doctrine 
and  the  discipline  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  and  as  such 
has  been  recommended  by  the  approbation  of  Pius  I^.  It  may, 
therefore,  be  named  as  fairly  representing  the  Roman  side  in  the 
great  question  that  now  divides  the  world. 

On  the  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  the  discussion  of  this  ques- 
tion between  authority  and  freedom  has,  during  recent  years, 
been  made  at  once  more  comprehensive  in  its  purport  and  more 
concise  in  its  form.  On  the  side  of  authority  it  is  asserted  that 
the  most  serious  errors,  not  only  in  theology,  but  also  in  philo- 
sophy and  in  the  study  of  history — as  in  politics,  in  social 

*  'It  18  the  whole  plenary  power  over  the  whole  Church,  as  over  every 
individual  man — the  fall  power  claimed  by  the  Popes  since  Giegoiy  YII., 
and  proclaimed  in  mftny  bolls  since  that  known  as  f^nam  Sanetam — ^that 
must,  henceforth,  and  by  eveiy  Catholic,  be  maintained  as  an  article  of 
faith  and  recognised>ui  practical  life.'—/,  e.  DSUinger's  £rUSnmg  (1871). 


XXXI  v.]  •     CONTEOVERSY.  675 

economy^  and  eyen  lit  the  physical  Bciences — are  mostly  the 
results  of  a  revolt  against  the  authority  of  the  Koman  Church. 
On  the  other  side,  it  is  not  the  authority  of  any  one  Confession — 
asi  for  example,  that  of  Augsburg — that  is  now  maintained  in 
opposition  to  Boman  claims.  It  is  nothing  less  than  the  assertion 
of  absolute  individual  freedom  in  religion,  as  in  science ;  while; 
with  regard  to  the  State,  it  is  the  assertion  already  quoted  (in 
Chapter  XXVI II.)  '  that  the  religion  of  a  people  must  be  imma- 
nent in  their  own  political  and  social  'Jistitutions.' 

It  would  be  unfair  to  disguise  the  fact  that  controversy — scien- 
tific, theological,  and  quasi-philosophical — has  been  too  pronunent 
in  modem  German  literature.  A  great  part  of  it  may  be  com- 
mended rather  for  its  energy  than  for  either  moderation  or  refine- 
ment. The  t^dency  to  engage  in  controversy  appears  to  be 
developed  in  an  inverse  ratio  with  the  power  commended  by 
Goethe— the  power  of  placing  one's  self  in.  the  position  of  the 
adversary.  Becent  disputes  on  the  exclusive  existence  of  matter 
have  been  utterly  useless ;  for  the  Materialists  themselves,  when 
engaged  in  true  inquiries,  make  no  u^e  of  their  own  pet  axiom. 
It  is  pleasant  to  add  that  quasi-philosophical  controversies  have 
abated  during  recent  years.  After  the  gross  caricatures  which  a 
few  hasty  young  men.  made  of  the  Hegelian  philosophy,  some 
years  ago,  it  would  be  well  to  leave  the  topic  alone  for  a  century, 
or  longer. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  teaching  of  that  philosoph^^  of 
which  the  whole  tendency  was  towards  moderation  and  concilia- 
tion— ^in  religion  as  in  politics — seems  to  have  failed  for  the 
present  Neither  of  the  two  extreme  parties — of  negation  on  one 
side  and  of  absolutism  on  the  other — can  imagine  the  possible 
existence  of  a  third.  Yet  the  Future  may,  conceivably,  find  some 
work  still  remaining  to  be  done,  after  all  the  finalities  of  the 
present  age.  There  may  be  some  truth  in  a  prediction  uttered 
by  ScH£LLi]7a,  in  one  of  his  last  series  of  lectures : — After  all  that 
the  representatives  of  St.  Peter  have  said,  and  all  that  has  been 
said  in  the  name  of  St  Paul,  the  final  victory  may  belong  to  thd 
followers  of  St  John, 


676  OUTLINES  OF  OERMAN  LITBRATUEE.  [Ch. 


CHAPTER  XXX7. 

Tin  TSBEB  CHISF  BITISTOKS  OV    OSBICAN  LTrBBATVBX — THB  8BTKa 
PBBIODS  Ain>  THB  PBB8BMT  Tllfi — XODEBW  KAAJJSM. — UCATBBIALISX 
^-COKTBOYBBST — ^KATIOITAL  BOONOKf  AND  SOCIAL  8CIKNCB— POBTUr 
AND  BEALITT — CONCILIATIOir — 8CHILLBB  AND  PBINCB  ALBBBT — THB 
UTKBABT   UNION   OF  OEBHANT,   ENOLAND,   AND   AME&ICA. 

The  compreheosive  literature  of  wbicb  the  Outlines  have  been 
given,  may  be  classified  as  dividing  itself  into  three  very  extensif  e 
sections,  of  which  each  is  represented  by  a  voluminous  library. 
Tbe^r«^  great  department,  including  the  literature  of  physical 
science,  from  meteorology  onwards  through  all  the  sciences, 
becoming  more  and  more  complex — chemistry,  geology,  botany, 
and  zoology — to  anthropology,  may  be'  generally  described  as 
treating  of  man  in  his  relations  with  nature.  It  is  in  this  section 
that  were  found  the  greatest  defects  in  German  literature,  from 
its' first  to  its  seventh  period;  but  it  is  here  that  the  greatest 
progress  has  been  made  during  the  present  century.  To  the 
second  great  department  belong  the  libraries  of  biography,  and  of 
social,  political,  and  ecclesiastical  history.  Here,  as  might  be 
expected,  controversies  are  abundant;  but,  without  saying  any- 
thing of  the  respective  claims  of  the  several  parties — conservative 
or  liberal.  Catholic  or  Protestant — ^it  may  be  affirmed  that  they  are 
all  ably  represented  in  historical  literature.  In  certain  subdivisions 
of  this  department— especially  in  the  history  of  culture  and  of  the 
development  of  religious  doctrines — German  literature  has  hardly 
a  competent  rival.  The  third  main  division  includes  theology, 
philosophy,  cid  poetry — all  the  literature  belonging  to  the  ideal 
or  spiritual  world.  Here  also  are  found  controversies  too  impor- 
tant to  be  described  within  our  limits,  which  may  sufiice,  however, 
to  indicate  the  fact  that  every  class  of  opinions  or  tenets  is  ably 
and  fully  represented. 


XXXV.]  THE  SEVEN  PERIODS.  577 

• 

The  precedmg  Outlines  have  shown  how,  during  the  firtl 
period,  literature  was  the  servant  of  the  Church,  and  was  employed 
by  the  monks  at  St.  Gallen  and  at  Fulda  for  the  culture  of  the 
people.  In  the  second  period  the  language  was  made  musical, 
poetry  prevailed  over  prose,  and  royal  and  baronial  halls  in 
Austria  and  Suabia  welcomed  the  knights  and  minstrels  who 
cultivated  poetry  and  music.  The  third  period  was  the  time 
when  literature,  neglected  by  the  nobility,  found  shelter — strange 
to  say! — in  the  club-rooms  of  the  guilds  (or  trades-unions), 
where  co-operative  master-singers  kept  their  stores  of  home-made 
Terse.  Prose,  at  that  time,  was  better  cared  for  by  the  mystics 
at  Strasfiburg,  and  poetry,  in  the  form  of  prose,  might  be  found  in 
the  friar  Berthold^s  sermons  addressed  to  congregations  assembled 
in  the  open  field.  In  the  fourth  period,  Luther  gave  his  German 
Bible  to  the  people,  and  thus  laid  the  foundation  of  a  national 
literature ;  but  the  work  of  building  up  was  soon  interrupted  by 
controversy,  and  by  the  disastrous  Thirty  Years'  War.  Its 
miseries  supply  a  more  than  sufficient  excuse  for  the  wretched 
literature  of  the JiftX  period.  Then  followed  a  time  when  a  great 
improvement  of  style  was  introduced  by  the  writings  of  the 
popular  philosophers,  and  when  LESsnra  appeared  as  the  herald 
of  a  new  literature.  It  is  impossible  to  characterise  thus  briefly 
the  literary  work  of  the  seventh  period,  or  of  the  hundred  years 
1770-1870.  The  three  chief  tendencies  that  have  ruled  during 
this  time^ave  been  the  classical,  in  the  days  of  Goethe  and 
Schiller,  the  romantic,  ormedisdval,  introduced  by  the  Schlegels, 
and  the  realistic,  which  is  prevalent  in  our  own  time. 

Under  the  name '  Realism '  may  be  included,  not  only  the  stu^j 
of  the  physical  sciences  and  the  industrial  arts,  but  also  social 
science  and  national  (or  political)  economy.  It  is  natural  that 
the  transition  from  philosophy  to  realism  should  be  accompanied 
with  one-sided  and  exaggerated  statements  in  favour  of  modem 
studies  and  tendencies.  These  have  led  to  a  controversy  which 
has  not  always  been  conducted  with  strict  decorum.  Karl  Voex, 
as  one  of  the  boldest  advocates  of  materialism,  has  made  some 
extraordinary  and  offensive  assertions,  and,  oil  the  other  sidej 
GoTiscHALL  *  has  given  to  Vogt  the  titie,  advocattis  diahoH,    For 

*  Die  deutsdie  NatwnaUUeraiur  des  neunzAnten  JahrhunderU^  von 
Rudolf  GronsoHALi^-^ne  of  the  best  of  recent  works  in  its  class.  It 
givM  SB  account,  not  only  of  poetical  literature,  bat  also  of  the  n>ore 

PP 


678  OUTLINES  OF  GERMAN  LITERATUBE.  [Ch. 

the  opposition  of  mere  '  dreamers ' — ^Hegel,  Schopenhauer,  Herbart 
— the  materialists  care  nothing ;  but  their  theory  has  been  also 
contradicted  by  scientific  men — Liebig,  Carus,  Ehrenberg,  and 
others.  One  of  the  more  noticeable  of  the  books  produced  by 
this  controversy  is  a  *  Histoiy  of  Materialism/  by  F.  A.  Lakqe. 
The  materialists  have,  indeed,  done  no  good  by  their  one-sided 
and  negative  theory,  for  they  have  been  writing  on  abstruse 
metaphysics  without  knowing  what  they  were  doing ;  but  their 
zeal  and  boldness  in  researches  have  given  wholesome  impulses 
to  the  study  of  physical  science,  and  several  well-written  and 
popular  books  are  the  results.  Schleibem's  book  on  '*  The  Platit 
and  its  Life,'  Bitemeisteb's  'History  of  Creation,'  'The  Four 
Seasons,'  and  another  book,  'The  Trees  of  the  Forest,'  by  Ros6- 
mXssleb,  the  researches  of  Vibchow  in  cellular  pathology  and 
and  in  therapeutics ;— these  are  mentioned  as  a  few  examples  bf 
many  useful  and  important  works  which  we  have  heen  compelled 
to  leave  unnoticed.  For  an  example  of  endeavours  to  make 
science  popular,  we  may  refer  to  a  '  Series  of  Scientific  Lectures,' 
edited  by  Viechow  and  HoLTZT!3n)OEFP. 

There  is  no  natural  controversy  between  physical  science  and 
philosophy.  B^^h  were  harmonised  in  the  mind  of  Aristotle. 
He  knew,  perhaps,  a  little  of  induction  and  of  the  value  of  expe- 
rimental researches ;  yet  he  asserted  Qn  effect)  that  '  the  most 
comprehensive  theory  is  the  best'  But  philosophy  has  had  its 
development  in  Germany,  and,  possibly,  centuries  ^ay  elapse 
before  anjrthing  important  can  be  added  to  what  Hegel  has  said. 
The  polemic-metaphysical  and  the  polemic-theological  depart- 
ments in  German  literature  have  too  long  been  overcrowded. 
With  all  due  reverence  for  the  few  powerful  minds  whd,  by  their 
ovm  immanent  destiny,  have  been  compelled  to  follow  in  the 
speculative  paths  traced  by  such  thinkers  as  Scotus  £!rigena  and 
Hegel,  we  have  had  enough,  for  a  time,  of  systematic  philos(ophy. 
German  readers  have  also  had  an  abundance —almost  satiating — 
of  {esthetic  theoiy,  and  it  can  hardly  bd  doubted  that  they  have 
had,  recently,  top  xAuch  controversial  theology,  too  much  of  bare, 

important  or  popular  works  prodoced  in  philosophy,  histoiy,  politics,  and 
the  physical  sciences,  during  the  present  century.  Gottschall  writes  as 
a  literary  historian  of  extensive  culture.  The  energetic  expression  above 
quoted  is  not  a  characteristic  of  hia  gtyle,  which  U  generally  indicative  of 
thoughtftdnen  and  iboi«rmtio&. 


XXXV.]  THE  MBSENT  AGE.  679 

mental  analysis,  and  too  little  of  the  union  of  mind  and  soul  in 
which  true  religion  has  its  life.  It  will  be  no  matter  for  regret  if 
the  above-named  orer-crowded  paths  in  literature  are,  for  a  time, 
deserted,  while  men  turn  their  attention  to  '  the  interrogation  of 
nature,'  which  Lord  fiacon  so  strenuously  recommended.  It  may 
lead  them,  at  last,  to  Lord  Bacon's  own  conclusion : — '  They  that 
deny  a  God,  destroy  man's  nobility.' 

Under  the  title  'Realism'  we  have  included  not  only  the 
physical  sciences,  but  also  national  economy  and  social  science. 
Li  this  last-named  department,  the  original  and  scientific  work  by 
L.  Stein  on  '  Socialism  and  Communism  in  France '  must  again 
be  named.  It  was  almost  the  first  earnest  attempt  made  to  take 
the  subject  out  of  the  hands  of  quacks  who  had  monopolised  it, 
from  the  days  when  Campanella  wrote  of  his  *  Solar  State,'  and 
when  Patritio,  in  his  'Happy  City'  (1553),  described  a  model 
soup-kitchen  as  a  'Paradise  Regained.'  Since  then  we  have 
had  enough  of  abstract  theoly,  treating  ^he  whole  of  history  as 
if  it  had  no  reason  to  guide  it;  or  proposing  to  make  a  new 
world  out  of  elements  that  exist  nowhere  excepting  in  books. 
On  the  other  side,  insular  and  stationary  men,  hftving  no  sympa- 
thies beyond  those  of  their  own  class  in  society,  have  treated  with 
indifference  the  social  problems  of  the  present  age.  It  is,  there- 
fore, a  sign  of  good  promise  for  the  future,  that  men  who,  in 
former,  years,  might  have  devoted  their  studies  to  metaphysics,  or 
to  controversial  theology,  are  now  grappling  with  practical  ques- 
tions respecting  the  interests  of  the  millions  and  the  transitional 
relations  of  capital  and  labour.  It  is,  indeed,  high  time  that  these 
interests  should  be  made  the  objects  of  a  study  as  persevering  as 
was  ever  devoted  to  theology  or  to  philosophy.  Already,  national 
economists  in  Germany  have  discovered,  as  they  believe,  serious 
defects  in  Adam  Smith's  theory.  They  are  beginning  to  see  that 
a  union  of  interests,  stronger  than  that  which 'selfishness  and 
competition  can  maintain,  will  be  demanded  in  the  future ;  but 
they  see  also  that  the  union  required  must  be  the  result  of  no 
measures  that  are  inconsistent  with  respect  for  personal  freedom. 
There  is  no  degradation  in  turning  away,  for  a  time,  from  poetry 
and  philosophy,  in  order  to  devote  attention  to  studies  that  have 
been  too  long  neglected.  '  It  is  the  destiny  of  the  mind,'  says  the 
chief  advocate  of  conciliation, '  that  it  must  endure  the  sternest 
opposition,  that  it  must  6W&  ^^rtospf  oTwreomt^  and  tranmiita  IHto 

rF2 


580  OUTUKES  OF  GEBHAK  LITERATUBE.  [Ck 

iU  own  life  the  extreme  contradictioii  of  itself/  And  that  ex« 
treme  contradiction  is  this  real,  hard  world  around  us  here,  with 
all  its  manifold  obstructions^  divisions,  contro vermes,  'difficulties, 
and  miseries.  To  make  thai  world  a  fit  dwelling-place  for  men 
is  no  problem  to  be  solved  bj  Dreamers  and  Utopians.  It  will 
demand  for  its  solution  all  the  energy  of  a  true,  immanent  religion, 
and  all  the  resources  of  moral  and  intellectual  education. 

No  contempt  of  either  poetry  or  philosoplij  is  intended  to  be 
implied  in  the  preceding  remarks.  Poetry — accepting  the  word 
in  its  widest  meaning — ^has  long  been  and  still  remains  a  Mend 
to  the  national  union  and  to  the  social  life  of  the  German  people. 
Their  successful  *  Schillei^FestiTal '  in  1859  might  be  referred  to 
as  a  proof  of  what  is  here  stated.  Their  highest  characteristics 
are  represented  in  the  Aesthetic,  didactic,  and  imaginative  writings 
of  their  poet — Schiller — ^and  they  will  hardly  be  guners  by  a 
sacrifice  of  his  idealism  to  anything  that  may  be  called  realism. 
But  no  such  sacrifice  can  be  reasonably  demanded ;  for  the  con- 
trover^  supposed  to  exist  between  the  real  and  tjie  ideal  is — like 
some  other  disputations  that  now  make  a  great  noise  in  the  world — 
mostly  imaginsfy  or  wilful.  It  was  Schiller's  aim — especially  in 
the  closing  years  of  his  short  life — to  make  poetry  itself,  indirectly 
but  truly,  practical,  and  this  is  one  of  the  reasons  that  may  justify 
the  prominence  that  has  been  given  to  his  name  in  these  Outlines. 
It  is  pleasant^  in  our  days  of  minute  analysis  and  tiresome  con- 
ti  jversy,  to  pay  homage  to  the  memory  of  a  great  and  concilia- 
tory writer,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to  know  that  our  judgment 
may  be  confirmed  by  the  sentiments  of  a  royal  author,  whose 
memory  will  long  serve  to  strengthen  the  union  of  Great  Britain 
with  Gtonany : — 

To  SoHiLLmu 

As  immlfold  as  life,  the  poet's  art 
May  charm  the  fancy,  or  may  cheer  the  heart  t    ' 
Hay  with  pure  wisdom  blend,  or  may  contiol 
With  glowing  thoaghts  and  worda  the  listener'a  souL 

.  •  •  •  • 

An  powers,  high  Genius  I  were  in  thee  combined. 
To  stir  the  soul—to  educate  the  mind. 

The  elegiac  German  verses,  of  which  the  above  is  atf  abridged 
translation,  were  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  Schulei^  the  Ideal 


XXXV.]  GERMANY— ENGLAND—AMERICA.  681 

Poet,  bj  one  who  will  ever  be  remembered  as  the  Ideal  Prince — 
Albert,  the  late  Prince  Consort  of  England — whose  name  must 
find  place  in  a  book  which,  however  lowly,  has  for  its  aim  the 
promotion  of  a  union  of  the  English  with  the  German  nation. 

While  German  literature  has  enriched  itself  with  translations 
from  the  literatures  of  all  peoples,  ancient  and  modem,  it  has 
sent  forth  its  own  influence  into  many  lands  —  especially  to 
England  and  to'  America.  Several  years  have  passed  away  since 
Pbof.  Max  Mtjixeb,  in  the  preface  to  his  'German  Classics/ 
spoke  of  the  literatures  of  the  Teutonic  nations,  German  and 
English,  as  growing  into  one,  Aid  added  :— *  The  two  great  Ger- 
man classics,  Schiller  and  Goethe,  have  found  their  most  success- 
ful biographers  in  Carlyle  and  Lewes,  and  several  works  of 
German  i^holarship  have  met  with  more  attentive  and  thoughtful 
readers  in  the  colleges  of  England  than  in  the  universities  of 
Germany.  Goethe's  idea  of  a  world-literature  has,  to  a  certain 
extent,  been  realised.'  It  must  be  understood,  of  course,  that  the 
learned  professor  tacitly  included  under  the  title  English  the 
literature  of  the  American  nation,  which,  during  recent  years,  has 
more  and  more  united  itself  with  that  of  the  German  people. 
On  the  moral  union  of  theae  three  great  nations^  whose  intellec- 
tual culture  has  already  been  united,  depends,  we  believei  the 
future  welfare  of  the  world. 


I  , 


INDEX. 


-•o^ 


ABB 

Abbt  184 

Abraham  a  St.  Clara,  IM 

.Xgthetiet.  198.  £06, 375, 

4BS.561 
Airricola.  110 
Albert,  Prince,  681 
Albertini,  4h» 
Alberns.  128 
Albrecht  von  Eyb,  78 
Alexis.  587 
Alxinger,  388 
Amftlie      (DucheM      of 

Saxony).  527 
America,  581 
AndetU  HUtory,  648 
AndreA,  l:i7.  225 
Angelas,  Sileslus,  148 
Anmlm,  155 
Anaheim,  117 
Archenholts.  648 
Architecture,  688 
Amdt,  Jnhann,  110 
Amdt,  Monts.426 
Amim.  Achim  v.,  408 
Amitii,  Bettina  v..  411 
Arnold,  Daniel.  86d 
Arnold,  Gourried,  168 
Art.   192-3,   208-9,  875, 

681-8 
Aston,  Luine.  640 
Auerbach.  530 
AuersperK,  511 
Aufrenberir,439 
Auetrian  Poetrg,  611-6 
Ava  (Frau).  18 
Aventinus,  117     * 
Ayrer,131 


Baadsb.  401-8 
BiiRicetfen,  364 
B&hr.  658 
Bahrdt,  Dr.,  188 
Barlh,  547 
Basedow.  223 
Bastian.  Adolf.  647 
Bauemfeld,  620 
BanmgTten,  189 


BAH 

Baur,  Perdinand,  668 
BechsMn,  518 
Beck,  Karl,  614  * 

Becker,  K.  P..  649 
Becker.  Nikolaiia,  643 
Beheim,  74 
Beitzke,  552 
Bekker.  161 
Benedix.  620 
Benfej,  659 
BMisen,  552 
Berthold  (Bishop).  109 
B^rthold  (Friar),  61 
Bes8(>r,  146 

Bettina  (V.  Amim),  411 
Bible  (Luther*!.),  103 
Bicdermann.  667 
Biography,  647 
Birken, 156 
BiMmarck,  Prince,  6 
Bitsius,  630 
Bleek.  566 

Blumauer,  Aloya,  868 
Bluntschli,  553 
BSckh.  August,  658 
Bodenatedt,  620 
Bodenstein,  A.  B.,  101 
Bodmer,  170 
BOhroe.  112. 388,  474, 401 
Boisser^,  663 
Bolt«>,  Amely,  640 
Boner,  60 
Bopp,  Frans,  668 
BorbeiTt,  658 
B6rne,  469 
Botany,  646,  678 
B6ttigtT.  K.  W.,  649 
Bouddhitm,  491 
Brachaiann.  365 
Brachvogel.  621 
Braiico,  Helene.  527 
Brandt,  Sebastian,  85 
Breitinger.  178 
Brentano,  Clemens.  411 
Brentano,  Lujo,  6>:6 
Brockea,  146 
Bronner,  »56 
Bruoker,  Jakob,  189 


CUB  • 

Bruhns,  Kari,  646 
Bruromer.  76 
Brun,  Priederike,  865 
Brunswick.      Heinrioh 

Julius.  Duke  of,  138 
Bube,  518 
Buchholts.  156 
BQrhner,  40i{ 
BuUiiiger,  117 
Bunsen,  Christian  r.,  649 
Biinlach,  545 
BQrger.  24) 
BuniiciNt«irj  678 
Burow,  Julie.  540 
Byr,  Robert,  537 


Cavpaitblia,  97, 679 

Canuiius,  108 
Canits,  146 
Carlyle,  6a.  681 
C  irridn*.  471.  56S 
CaruM.  545. 578 
Catholiciem,  602,  609-73 
ChamiMso,  4:16 
Charlemagne,  10 
Chemietry.^^ 
Chemnita,  156 
Chmel.  552 
Church,  History  pf  tfte, 

56r) 
Church,  Protettant,S(S&-' 

9 
Church,  Roman  Catho* 

lie,  569-71 
Claudius,  246 
Clauren  (Heun).369 
ClcNHMier,  89 
Communism,  554 
Controversy        ( Ph  ilo- 

stfphical).  4»5  675 
Controversy,  {Theoloffi' 

CO/).  501. 675 
Cn'UZf  r,  558 
Cront'Kk.  176 
Crusades,  13, 373 
Curtiua,  660 


584 


INDEX. 


DAO 

Bach.  Ul 

Dahlmaim,  663 

Daub.  495 

Decius,  121 

Deinlm.dtitein,  620 

liemonoUtffif,  133 

Ben  IK,  199 

Be  Wette,  666 

Bieiiterw(>ff,  1157 

Biez,  Kntharinn,  627 

Bilia.  Hek'iie.  627 

Binirolfitedt,  606 

Bittmar,  549 

B6iliiiKer.  67(hS 

BOrinir,  618 

Bonier,  6(36 

J^ranw.  tlie.  76, 131, 148, 
170, 203. 2o6. 326-7, 8C0- 
3.  4 to.  438.  520 

Brftxicr-Maiirred,  616 

Broil  ke.  643 

BroKte*  H  aUhof,  An- 
nette v..  .527 

Bro.vMon.  Johann,  660 

Bruiiiaiin,  Wilheini,  660 

BulxH*.  Ediinrd,  619 

Buiicker.  Max.  551 

Bttn-r.  All»rfcht.  118 

BQriiiKbreld,  Ida  v.,  627 

Ebee.  120 
EkHThanl,  186 
Biwrlmrt  von  Snx,  63 
Ebert..\  mold,  176 
£lK>rt,  Karl  Egoii.  467 
JiccleaiasHcal    History 

{Catholic),    663,     67», 

674 
Eccleaiasfical    History 

{Prot€8tint),Sfa,Bm 
Eckcrnmini,  444 
F^khnrt,  &3 
Hducation,  655 
Eu'eMlio]r,159 
Ehr«*iil«»rK  578 
EirhciidorfT,  412 
Eifhoni,  553 
Elizabeth      (CliarTottc). 

Biichesa  of   Orleans, 

168 
EnH.  186 

Mugliah  History,  663 
EnuiinuM,  118 
Erdmanii.  495 
Eriach.  123 
EsclH'nbach    (Wolflram 

v.),  31 
E.s«-hpiiloer,  91 
Ktterliii.  91.  »29 
EtttiiQiler.  619 
EiilunvpioKel,  83 
Ewald,  HLMiirieli,  610 
£^b(xyi)reciitv.),78 

F^BLKS,  41, 71. 178 
Pairt  Taj^s   {Mdhr* 
chsn),  246»  669 


VAL 

TiUk,870 

Fallnierayer,  647 

*  Faust.  Dr./  the  Legend, 
132 

Faust,  by  Gkwthe,  28S 

Feuchteraieben,  616 

Feuerbiich,  Ludwig  A^ 
405,498 

Fichte,  305.  868. 421, 462 

Flrhte   (the  Youager), 
497 

Filitz.  123 

Finck.  526 

FiMchnrt.  128 

Pischel.  553 

Fischer,  J.  G..  621 

Fischer  (Kuiio).  495,663 

Flagellants  (the),  90 

Fleniiiiir.  142, 145 

Folz.  Hans,77,82 

Fontaite,  620 

ForKter,  Georg.  645 
•Pouqu^,  403 

Fratu'k.  Sebastian,  110 

Fmiioke,  Uerisann,  161, 
162 

Frankl.  515 

Frnuetiloh,'  65 

J'r  •etnastmrp.  226 

Ir-tliirnith.  .i^Od 

J  r  nch  JUvtiliition^  223, 
22H.2J7,  .'^J.  481 

FreyliiiKbnuaen,  146, 

Freytaic.  532 

Fricklmrd.  31 

FriwJrich  II.  (of  Prus- 
sia). 1(»,  181 

Fricdrich    HI.  (Empe- 
ror). 68 

FriKirich    Wilhelm   L, 
165,  168 

Fritiius,  166 

FritHch,  547 


Gablbr.  405 
G»Kerii,  552,  658 
Gal),  LiiiMe  r.,  538 
G:uis.  4ii5 
G&rtiier,  175 
Garve,  Christian,  186 
Gnrve,  Eur)  B..  626 
(^aiidy,  618,  526 
Geioel,  510 
Goiler,  8().  84 
Geilert,  82 
Oeftgraphy,  S45 
Gerhnrdt,  Paul,  148 
German  Languages^thB, 

1-3 
Germany,   History    qf, 

14,  68,  0>;,  156, 18i.  225, 

370,  42  U  459,  642,  661, 

652 
Gerstftcker,  538 
(iervinus,  561 
Gessner.  179 
Gfrdrar,  66S 


HAL 
Gichtel.  162 
Gieaebrecfat,  652 
Giseke.  5'<1 
Glassbrpunor.  620 
Glfim,  Johann.  W.,  17« 
Glichetare.       Heinrich 

der.  42 
Gluck.  Christoph  ▼.,  6 
Giack.  EiUribebh,  627 
Goedeke.  561 
Goethe,  221,  287-9.  252- 

99,  440—6 
Got  is.  5S9 
GHirres,  Josepli,  423 
G6sehel.  495 
0<4hic  Architecture,  562 
Gitthic  Langutige,  2 
Gottfried  von  Niren.  64 
(yottfried    von    Straas- 

burg.  31 
G<»ttheir,5:'>0 
Gottschall,  620^661,  677 
Gotteiched,     Christoph, 

170 
Gottsched.  Luiae  v.,  179 
G6t£.  176 
Grali)N>,438 
Griff.  560 

Grdl{Leffsndqf),97 
Grftsse,  560 
Grstnan  History,  660 
Gretli  Hirer,  14ii 
Gret'oroviuH,  620 
GneppiikiTl,  621 
(^riUparzer.  419.  614 
Grim  in,  Jiicoh.  659 
Griuim,  Wilhelm.  669 
(Triinnie'shauseii,  ISi 
GroH^ef  512 
Gran.  AnastasiUB,  511 
Gruppe,  620 
Gryphiuji.  Audraw,  140, 

148 
Gryphins.  (?hrutian,  140 
Guerike.  64v) 
Guhrauer,  5l8 
Gaiieh.  Guatav.  649 
Gundling,  Jakob  Paul, 

166 
Gundling,  Nik.  H..  169 
GQiither.  Anton,  491 
G<lntlier,C..li6 
Gulzko\f .  Karl.  603.  686 
G^tnnaUies,  424 


HacKlXndkb,  533 
Hndlaub.  64 
Havi-doni,  Fr.  t.,  174 
Hagen.  552 
Hjitfeii,  F.  H.  Ton  der, 

47 
HaKenhaoh.  6rt3 
Hahn-Uahii,  640 
Hainbund  {the),  241 
Hilb,  Sut^-r.  74 
Halier.  Albrecht  v^  174 
HaiiB,  614 


INDEX. 


585 


Hamann,  283 
Hainerlinir,  619 
liHiiimer.  Julius,  626 
lianiiiier-Piir^tHll,  652 
U&iidel.  G.  F..  6 
Happvl.  £-^-.154 
ilardeiiberK,  391 
H&rinir.  6i7 
Harsd6rffer,  146 
Uartinaiin  (v.  Aue).  8S 
Hartinann  (Ed.),  497 
Uartniann  (Moritz),514 
Hase,  563,  6i;6 
Haiientichiid,  619 
Uuufr,  VVilhehn,  481 
HaiiK,  C.  F..  353 
y\  &u.s8fr,  652 
Haydn,  Joseph,  i 
>lelibel»6l4 
HelM-l,  86-2 
Ueereii,  549 
Heenuaini,  140 
H»>irel.  460.  44:5-84, 403 
HuKiiur,  Ulrich,  356 
Ufiiie,    Ueiiihch,    MB, 

»  151-4.  503 
em  rich,  Julius  (Duke 
or  BruiiKwick),132 

geiiise.  Wiliiflm,  2;)9 
elinaiid(theMouk),78 
HeliuholtB,  6ti2 
HeJwiK.  Aiualie  v^  856 
HeHKi»t«tib«rK,  660 
Uerliart,    Johaun   7r^ 

485 
Herder.  229»  233-6 
H'Tinaiin.   Johann   O^ 

558 
Hermann,  Niklas^  121 
Heriii(>a,  Geonr,  491 
Hermes,  Johaun  T.,  178 
Henneti.  K.  H.,  649,  558 
ilerts,  620 

Herweicli,  609  • 

Hetfekiel,  M8 
HcltinKt'r,  674 
Hetiner,  661 
Heun,  359 

Heyso,  Paul,  519.639 
llillehrand,  561 
Hippcl.  217 

Hippotitus  a  Lapide,166 
Hirzirl,  567 

liUtory^  Ancient,  649 
History  of  Art,  ^\ 
History  qf  Culture,  549 
History t  JScelenasticalt 

563 
HUttory,  English^  063 
Histoi-y,  German,  651 
History^  Grecian,  560 
History  qf  Literature, 

5o0 
History,  Mediaval,  661 
History,  Soman .  550 
History,  Phiiosophy  of, 

479 
Hittory,  Umvertal,  640 


HOB 

Hoefer,  Ed^  684 

Hofftnann,      Amadeiu, 

401 
Hofrmann,  Frans,  491 
Hoffoiann  v.  Fallerslo- 

ben,  5U5 
Hoffmann.  WiUielm.  649 
Huffman  8  waldau,  146 
Hofstadt,  562 
Hdlderiin.  353 
HolU'i.  Karl  v.,  620 
.   Houdt/Petrusde,108 
HonefCfrer,  558 
Horn,  Moritz.  620 
Horn.  Von,  531 
Hotho,  4»6,  5H2 
Huber,  Therese,  367 
Hugel,  Karl  v.,  6 47 
HuKO  V.  Trimbeii;,  66 
Haihnann.  551 
Humboldt,  Alex,  v.,  646 
Humboldt,  Wilb.  v^  366, 

560 
Hiirter,  Fried,  r.,  652 
Uuttun,  Ulrioh  v^  99 


Idkjiusm  {Poetical),  818 
Idealism     {PhUowophi" 

cat),  465-84 
IfHartd,  »60 
Ihne,  NV..  650 
JUuminati,  226 
luimermaiin,  4'i9 
Iselin,  Isaac,  184 


Jacobi,  Fried.  H.,  238 
Jacubi,  J.  O.,  177 
Jacobs,  Pried..  669 
Jabn,  ,*i69,424 
Jenn  PhuI,  33i>-61 
Jena,  367-8 
Jerusalem,  188 
Jonas.  120 
Jordan,  W.,  620 
^JuuK  (Stillinte),  248 
'Justiuger,  91  • 


KJlLLEITBAOH,  661 

Kant,  .50,365,464,476  * 

Karl  Aui^ust  (Qroasher- 
Bog  von  Sacnsen-Wei- 
niar-Eisenach).  252 

Karl  der  Orosse,  10 

Karsch,  Anna,  177 

KAtttner,  176 

Keim,  667 

Keisewetter.  668 

Keller,  Gottfried,  631 

Kepler,  6 

Kerncr,  Justinus,  434 

Kero,  10 

Kessler,  117 

Kinkel.  517.  562 

Kleist,  Ewald,  176 


Kleist,  Heinrioh  v.,  41i 
Kiemm,  640 
Kli  nicer.  240 
KlOden.  545 
Klopstock,  195-201 
Klumpp.  557 
Knapp.  Albert,  438 
Knaust,  Heinrichf  12S 
KniKRe,Adolfv.,22A 
Kobbe.  550 
Koberstein,  561 
Kohlrauscb,  562 
KOnig,  537 
Konrad.  37 
Kopisch,  518 
Kdrner.  304 
Kbnier  ('I'heodor),  426 
KortQm,  550, 551 
Koseicarten,:Ul2 
Kotzebue.  861-8 
Krapr,  547 
Krause,-562 
Kretschmann,  199 
Kramer,  Barth.,  131 
Kruminacher,    Fr.    A* 

856 
Ku^ler,  662 
Kuiilmann,  144 
Kuhne,  604 

Kulmann,  ElizAbeth,6e7 
Kurz,  Heinrich,  561 


LACHMAinr,  Karl  H.,560 
Lalontaine,  SA9 
Lamprecht.  36 
Lang.  Ueiiirich,  567 
Lange,  Fried.  A.,  578 
Lange,  Johann  Pm  526 
Lange.  8amuel.  160 
Ijapf>enberg.  553 
LassJillr,  554 
Lasaen,  5^7 
Laube,  504 

Laufenberg.  Heinr.T.,7S 
Laureniberg,  147 
Lavater,  248 
Layriz,  122 
Lenmann.  117 
Leibnitz.  162-6 
Leisewitz,  246 
Leitner,  624 
Lenau,  518 
Lenz,240 
Leo,  551,  569 
Leasing,  201-19 
Lewald.  Fanay.  640 
Lewes,  G.  H.,  581 
Liberation,  the  War  qf, 

421 
Lichtenbrrg,  249 
Lichtensteiu.  Heinrich, 

647 
Licbteustein,  TJlrlch  r.« 

53 
Liclitwer,  173 
Liebig.  54 K  578 
Liugg,519 


IMtraiy  SajHUm.  iSt. 


KOR 

vam.sn 

HoMbtroMh.Ul 
MoKn,  4^*.  BIT 


hwiiiig  (dcrProanie). 


Lulber,  »-lM 


M  tfiiavai  RvmanoM,  IE 


HQMer,  JuliuMW 
Mall^r.KulUinied.US 
""■kr  (V,  ESnigiwin- 

Mifll«r,  Hm,  SSI 
HQIIer,  WllheJia.lU 
«ailn«r,  418 
MQiuh  -  BdtiaKhuuni, 

UUiiohtuium  (Baroa), 

Muiidt,Cliiri.UO 
"     idt.  ThfiKlur,  6M 

iier,  8S-S» 

BUI.  IM 


Nu.  Johun,  108 
NaUanat  Avnomy,  Ul^ 


UMI<ltlHuliuJIOM*,lU, 

U-iihI.  Wollgug,  Ut, 

UO 

MO-*.  4I1-0.  «6,  4*7 

Ui>'h«lel.Kiiri.4«7.IIH 
HiddU  liigk  Oerman, 

Mill«r.J.«.:3> 

Uolilur,  i.  A..  M> 
MolaKhntb  4M 
MolliT,  WJ 
UflllliiiuKn,  SM 
HuKko,  Ualmuth  T.,  B 


NcMbecli^Ul 
Neuber,  Cixolfne,  m 
Noudtoku'.  Ut 
Neurter.  in 
Msiiklrch,  I« 
Neumann.  fiU 
NeiiDtirk.  IM 
Ww  High  Oerman,  8 
NLooU,    Chrluoph  V^ 

NicolJli.  FhlKpp,  121 
Ntoolv,  Lud»k  >..  3ffi) 
Nirbuhr.  Birlhnld.  UO 
Niabuhr.Cmtcn,  Bit 
Nivrlli,  Ml 
NimbM-h   (v.   Strehlcn- 

au),  BU 
Ni  Hurt,  54 
Mitucfa,  MI 
Motker.  11 


OehleawihlMD,  419 

OertoTMl 

OU  #vA  I7>piwi».  t 

Olwiui.  Adam,  US 

Opiti.  U8-W 

OrllQh.  Leopold  Tt5#7 


rA  ,('■ 


PiALEOW.  Augiuta   T 


PMoiotI,  Ciatth  Alt- 

PMIaton,  orimtti,  sw, 

ON 
PMliMivhi,  tOI-WI 
PhtitaU  vfeima*,  IK 

J>AviioI<i«,  tut 

PlMen,  44S-U 

flonnla,  LulMT.,UT 
PfWdV.  ICHB.llCHI,  \»- 

ai.iTs-B,  iBB-aia.CT>- 
w.  sie-M,  >to-(u,i»- 


I>rwnd(i>>lBIMt.STO 
Vnid,  S  «,  Ml 


PQltmann.  SO 
Pyn,  Jakob,  11 
Pjrrkar.WS 


lUli«l  '(V.  VwuliM«>). 


B»lllMBCh, 


Ib-iiiick,  SU 
BflliiinurilBr  Altc.47 
Ai:iiiiuir    Ton    ZwoMr, 

B-'llatnh,  Bf^ 

Urvhiiiim,  tlu  frtnch 

ivm.  t^ 

Etevlaiian,  Iht  Frtiah, 

wn-n).  m 

Mantard  U«  Fox,  11,  Tl 
Kttniadefos.li 
Ri.'i.w,  J.  P,»39-«l 


lliiiRviadt,  1£8 
Ki>l,  146 

UilMT,  HelnHch,  Bl 
Rilter,  Karl,  GW 


l(i>-eiil)liit.  77 


KuiloJC  of  UdMburs.  U. 
Bdidolpht.  Kiroltne,  IH 


Sailer  (Bighop),«l 
Hiiiiit-Mu-liii.jas 


eiiberg,  U8 

T,«S8 

er,     300-37,     «M, 


B<:hleiKl,  Adoir,  I7S 


Bobmhlt.Pr.  W.,1 


Sohopsnhusr,  Johuint, 

«7 
BcliDm,  Wllhslm,  tta 
IJcholUI,  1GS 


SuliulH,  Emit.  430 
"  ■    ■      llrlLtiKb.fil 


s.  Heinrlch  dn-,  M 


SueialUm.  et.  K.-m 


Blnun,  D.  ?,  4n,  MS. 


588 


IKBEX. 


BUO 

Bu('h«nwirt,  74 
Sulser,  189 


TakhIuses,  65 
THuler,  9HJ 
'IVller,  IbS 
Tpniiyran,  20,  484 
Terettjefreii,  146 
ToiiirtI,  668 
Theobald,  118 
Thenlogy,  664-76 
TheoMphy,  112-16 
Tliiele,66:5 
'J  hiervch,  661 
Thirty  Yeart'  War,  166 
Tlioluek.470,666 
•  Thouiuiu  (V.  Zircl&re), 

60 
Tlioiniisius,  160 
Thaiuiutil  24tf 
Thaiten,  Johann  H.  v^ 

664 
Tieck.  392-400 
TiedKe,  ^62 
Tr-ii-KfT.  AHicrt,  642 
Travels,  646 
TrautiiiHnii,6S8 
Trcndelcnburfr,  486 
TreviraiiU8, 645 
Tristan  (MediavcU  Ro- 

malice),  31 
Tschudt  ^KidiUfl,  117     • 
Tscliudi,  J.  J..  646 
Tiibitiffen  iichool,  606 
O'uriimir,  117 
Twiiiger,  91 


Uhland.  431 
TJkert,  640 

uiniHM,  9 

llllninnii,  663 
Uilricli,  Titus.  643 
IJIrich  V.  Licbteiistein, 

63 
Uinci.487 
Ultramontane  Pirinei' 

plea,  117.  602.  675 
UniversUie8{6erman),  4 


UKZ 


Unser.  228 
UHt<>ri,  362 
Us.  176 


YAir  DES  TBLDIS,  4S1 
Vanihageii  v.  Eiiiie,  647 
Vanibaffen.  R&hel.  648 
Vatican  Council,  the,  672 
Vatke,  496 
Vehse,  649 
Yeldc.  Van  der,  481 
Vel(i«Ke,  37 
ViUage  Storisg,  630 
Vilniar,  661,  560 
Virchow,  646,  678 
YiHchcr,  310,  405.  662 
Vofcelweide  (WaJther  t. 

der),47 
VofcJ,  616 

VcMTt.  Karl,  406,  646.  677 
Volksbucher    (Popular 

Logende),  136, 618 
Vusii,  246 

Voyages  and  7^avels,tM 
Vulpma.  C.  A^  868 


Waagbit,  662 
Wachler,  661 
Wacbstuuth,    WUhelm, 

652^658 
Wackeiiroder,  892 
Waekeniaircl,  661 
Warier,  Morits.  647 
Waldau,  Max,  519 
Waldis.  l-'8 
WaldiuCiller,  619 
Wallace.  534 
Wallensteiii,  826 
Waitber  (v.  der  Yogel- 

wHde),  47 
Waiz,  668 
'Wur-suiiKfl    (1813     and 

1870),  425.  642 
"Welier.  Veil,  75! 
Week  herlin.  122 
Weill,  Ft'odor,  621 
Weigel,  108 
WeiF,  G.,  662 
Weimar,  262 


ZWI 

Weiae^  Ghriatian,  lOO 
Weiae.  C.F.,  171 
Weloker,  t'r.,  658 
Welcker,  T.,  6.V* 
Werner,  Z..  417 
Wernher,  Bruder,  ill 
Wemher  der  Ghurfeeii&rej 

40 
Wernicke,  148 
WeKsenlierf?,    Iguas    ▼• 

803. 4^0 
Wette,  De,  666 
We«el,  247 
Wickram.  134 
Widitianii,  132 
Wiedmann,  134 
Wieland.  21.V9 
Wien  baric,  604 
Wildenbaiin,  6S1 
Wildernjutfa,  641 
Wilhelm       (ooinposer), 

642 
Wilheltni,  621 
Wilken.  561 
Witlirani,  12 
Winckelmann,  190-4 
Wirth.  653 
Witteitweiler.  62 
Woir,  Christian,  166 
Woir.Fried.  A.,658 
Woirrain     (v.    Eachen- 

bMh),  26-<$l 
Woltinaun,  »68 
WolKogcn,  Karoline  v^ 

367 
Wordsworth,  477, 484^628 
Wjle,  Nikla8V.,73 


ZachariX  176 
Zoillitz.  467 
Zeller,  6  '6 
Zeacn.  146 

ZiiiiQierDiann,  J.  Gm  188 
Zi  mmermaiin.  Wilh^628» 
-    65i 

Zinxendorf,  178 
Zirci&re ,  60 
Zollikorer,  186 
Zschokke,  350, 581 
Zwingli,  109 


.   ti 


% 


«J. 


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